


The Consequence of Hiding

by g33kyclassic



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, M/M, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 116,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g33kyclassic/pseuds/g33kyclassic
Summary: Charles is completing his PhD at Oxford when he finds himself in dire need of a new job to support himself and Raven.  Erik is a grumpy Mutant Student Counsellor who has yet to fill his student assistant position.  Enter Prof. MacTaggert and her matchmaking ways to bring her student and her friend together (in platonic, professional compatibility, of course).  Will things stay platonic for Charles and Erik?  Only time will tell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Cherik work. I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> This work begins pretty tame, but I have chosen the 'Mature' rating for future scenes and language. There is a power imbalance in this relationship (boss/employee), though it is not portrayed in an unhealthy way (imo). But if this is something that bothers you, this might not be the fic for you.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

* * *

****

**Chapter One**

Raven glanced sleepily at the clock on her dresser, which read 1:54am, before she collapsed back onto her pillow with a thump.

She could hear Charles in the living room, the tapping of his fingers on the keyboard, the occasionally scratching of a pen as he made notes, the clunk of a glass being put down on the table. But mostly she could feel him: his fatigue, the dull throb of a headache in his temples, and his general frustration at grading undergraduate papers.

She didn’t want to bother Charles. She knew he often let his rein on his power slip a bit when he was at home with her, because he had to keep such incredible control in place at every other time. They wouldn’t ever have been let into the UK if they had be aware that Charles was an omega level telepath – suspicion of all psionic powers was extremely high right now with many countries simply closing their borders to any mutant with even a hint of telepathic ability. Charles had only been able to sneak through with forged papers and the lie that he was a weak empathy. 

Raven also knew Charles wouldn’t be up this late if he didn’t need to be and he certainly wasn’t projecting his feelings consciously, but damn it, it was after midnight on a school night and if she wanted to be up this late she’d have snuck out to go to a party with actual popular music, dancing, spiked punch, and men (as opposed to high school boys).

Raven slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, grabbing her robe and wrapping it around herself as she stepped out of her room and peered down the hall. Charles was hunched over the coffee table, papers piled high, the glare of his computer screen too bright in an otherwise darkened room, as he pushed his glasses up is nose to rub his eyes. He looked both ridiculously young and yet like he’d aged years since she’d seen him this morning. 

They had been living as their own little family, just the two of them, since Charles had left home for university, determined to take Raven away from Kurt, and most assuredly Cain, whose cruelty was increasing every day toward both Charles and Raven. Since Charles’ mother had died, the last buffer they had against their step-father and step-brother had fallen, and Charles had begun plotting their escape almost immediately. 

At first things had gone well, Charles had inherited some money from his father’s estate, although Kurt had tied most of it up in an endless legal battle, and they had stayed in the US, as Charles quickly completed an undergrad at Harvard and his masters at Columbia. But the move to England for his doctoral work had been both exciting and extremely difficult. Raven knew this was exactly where Charles wanted to be, perhaps where he had always wanted to be, his father’s alma matter, and she had loved the thrill of reinventing herself in a completely new place, despite all the rain and gloomy weather. However, their money was running low, especially with Charles insisting on sending Raven to an exclusive school known for its acceptance of mutants, which of course cost more than they could really afford. So despite his job as a TA, Charles had also taken on a part-time job at the Bodleian library, home to Oxford’s celebrated collection of tomes, and run by a draconian witch of a woman named Hazel who seemed hell bent on making Charles’ life an absolute misery.

“You’re projecting again,” Raven said breaking the silence.

“Oh,” Charles frowned, guilt sweeping over his face instantly. Raven immediately felt the pain of the headache Charles had been sharing with her fade away. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Raven.”

“You overworked yourself again. That witch didn’t let you do any work during your shift did she?” Raven asked as she curled onto the sofa next to Charles and leaned against him.

“I’m afraid her policy of no schoolwork on the job, even if no one is around and asking for my assistance, remains in place. She reprimanded me again tonight and I now have an official write up in my employee record,” Charles sighed. “And her name is Mrs. Vincent and she is not a witch.”

Raven could feel Charles smiling slightly behind her, even without looking and she glanced over her shoulder to look at his face as she replied, “I only call her that because you get so much more uptight when I say what she really is, which is a bi—“

“Raven, language.” Charles reprimanded, but without any real anger.

“Well, she is and you know it.”

Raven felt Charles sigh and then felt his arm wrap around her, hugging her affectionately.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Apology accepted. Now, if I’m going back to bed, which I am, then you should head to bed too.” Raven stood, giving Charles a pointed look. “You’re exhausted.”

“Yes, of course. I just have a few more papers to grade and then –“

“No, Charles. You are going to bed now.” Raven tugged on Charles’ hand and dragged him to his feet, pushing him none too gently toward his room.

“But, I –“

“You can finish in the morning while you’re on the bus to school, or give them all random grades, who cares! Just get go to bed before you fall asleep on the couch and start project your weird dreams to me. Deal?” Raven crossed her arms over her chest and arched her eyebrow.

“Of course, deal.” Charles nodded, “Although I’m sure my dreams are all within the range of normal.”

“God Charles, just shut up and go to bed.” Raven said as she pushed her brother into his room and then firmly shut the door in his face.  


* * *

 

Jogging through the rain to get to his beat up Volkswagon Golf, Erik wondered again what had possessed him to stay in England, the land of perpetual disappointment. The place, where despite his PhD in Structural Engineering and his masters in mutant studies, he was relegated to being a student counselor (specializing in mutants of course) and shunned by the engineering department like he had the plague. The place where Magda had decided to practice law, only to fall in love with not only her work, but also her boss, leaving him to come home from work one day to an empty house with a hastily written note as the only explanation for his suddenly single lifestyle. Which had left him with almost a full year left on a lease for their flat, that was far too expensive for him to afford on his limited salary so he’d had to break the lease and pay a fine, which had caused him to sell his relatively nice BMW for his current beater of a car. He only managed to get himself to work everyday because he had worked in a mechanic shop while he was in high school and because he could manipulate metal, otherwise his piece of shit car would have collapsed in a heap ages ago. 

Erik carefully controlled his car’s movements until he arrived at Oxford and began another jog through the rain toward his office. Oxford had decided to have a more ‘mutant friendly’ image in the past few years and one of the ways they could prove that friendliness and acceptance to the student body was by hiring a mutant specific counselor for mutant specific student needs. Erik thought that the fact they he’d been hired for the position showed just how little the administration actually cared about mutant students, since he had never counseled anyone in his life, and his background education on mutant law and civil rights applied to the United States, not England.

If Erik had thought his endless nights of studying Oxford mutant by-laws, and mutant civil rights laws in England was going to prepare him adequately for his new role, he had soon found out he was very wrong. Most students did not want to complain about being unfairly kicked out of their flats (although Erik was proud to say he had been able to help the few who had presented him with that particular problem), instead most students came to him completely emotionally overwhelmed by a cacophony of issues that just needed to be vented out.

Today he sat, in mostly stunned silence, as a young girl (God, when he had gotten so old? When had all the students started to look like kids?) wept on the chair across from him, occasionally emitting an ear splitting screech (for which she apologized profusely, she had trouble controlling her mutation when she was so upset). Erik had succumb to putting in earplugs to save his hearing from the high pitched wail the girl seemed to produce every few minutes. 

Ever the professional, he still managed to follow her tear stained story of being dumped by her boyfriend (TMI, during a moment of orgasmic passion she had accidentally burst his ear drum and as an elite swimmer who could no longer go in water, he had not displayed any class while breaking up with her in front of her entire dormitory), her best friend (now ex-best friend) had hooked up with said boyfriend, and she was sure so was going to fail her Latin course and if that happened she ‘would just die’.

Erik let her cry it all out and when she finally pulled herself together, looking something akin to a drowned rat with mascara running down its cheeks, Erik did his best not to make her feel worse. Firstly, he told her in no uncertain terms her boyfriend was an asshole and her ‘best friend’ was too, then he told her he could help her move to another residence if she wanted to, but that she might find her current dorm mates quite sympathetic to her current situation, and thirdly he heard Prof. Ginters ran a really well attended Latin study group every Saturday afternoon. 

After handing her some pamphlets about the study group and giving her his best reassuring smile, he ushered her out of his office and sat back in his chair with a groan.

“Tough morning Mr Lehnsherr?” 

‘And it just got fucking worse’ Erik thought as he reluctantly looked up at the man standing in his doorway.

“Professor Clarke.” 

“Have you reconsidered my offer?” 

Erik stared stonily at the perfectly coiffed man in front of him. Clarke was the spitting image of a Professor at a prestigious British university, with his tweed jacket, the elbow patches, glasses perched on his nose, and silver hair gleaming. He stood perfectly straight, looking every inch the aristocrat his was – Erik remembered someone telling him last year that Clarke was the ‘heir to a Earldom’, to which Erik had almost replied ‘Are you shitting me?’, before realizing that his colleague was completely serious.

Clarke may have been a cultured gentleman in the eyes of most of the population of Oxford, but he was also a self-centred, prejudiced asshole.

“I will tell you the same thing today, that I told you last year.” Erik’s words came out gruffly as he tried to contain his anger, “If you think I would ever betray fellow mutants by reporting about them to you, then you know nothing about me. I would never betray my people.”

“You act as though by reporting a few simple facts to me, you would be sending young people to the gallows. I am simply curious –“

“You can call it whatever you want. The answer is no.” Erik glared steadily at Clarke, not batting an eye. Erik had been fooled once by the charisma of older, powerful man who wanted him to ‘do what was best for mutant-kind’ and he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. “I do not want to have this conversation ever again. Now get out of my office.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

“I lost my job. I was sacked. Fired.” 

Charles knew he was walking around campus in circles muttering to himself, but that could all be explained by the shock he was experiencing at having just lost his job at the library. He kept trying to do mental calculations to somehow come up with a way to keep paying for Raven’s school tuition, and their rent, and their food. But no matter how many times he tried, the money he needed for food and rent seemed to run out after a couple months.

With a huff of frustration, Charles squinted at his watch, barely able to make out the time in the growing darkness. 10:30pm. His shift at the library, if he had still been working there, would end in half an hour.

He let his wrist fall back to his side and kept walking. There was no sense going home early tonight. Maybe he could find another job quickly. Maybe Raven didn’t even need to know he’d lost this job, he could just get another one, a better one, and tell her like it was good news. He didn’t want her to worry, not now during the school year.

He would just go home, act normally, and figure out how to fix his current problem without troubling Raven. Given how busy Raven was with her friends, her involvement in the school play, and her advanced art classes, and all the other things seventeen year old girls obsess over, it would probably be ages before she even noticed anything was different anyway.

* * *

The truth was it took Raven less than two days to confront Charles about his secret.

“Ramen noodles again Charles? It’s Thursday, you always pick up kebabs on your way home on Thursday.” Raven stared at him intensely as Charles fidgeted. “What happened?”

“Ah. Well…” 

Charles fumbled for something reasonable to say, but the fact was it had taken him a great deal of effort not to stop for kebabs on the walk home and he was not at all looking forward to eating the ramen, and he really hated lying to Raven, even by omission. He could feel his face heating under Raven’s frank gaze and he sighed in defeat.

“The witch fired me.”

“She what! That bitch!” Raven stomped angrily around their tiny kitchen. “What reason would she possibly have to fire you? You have, like, a freaky encyclopedic knowledge about everything they have it that huge ass library anyway. You’ve been talking about going there since I was 6! There cannot possibly be anybody else who knows more about that place than you.”

“Well Mrs. Vincent has worked their for thirty years, I’m sure she –“

“Screw that Charles, this is ridiculous. What reason could she possible have given for firing you?”

“One of the students in the intro to genetics course I’m TAing came in looking for a book. She caught us talking about course work. And that was that I suppose.” Charles rubbed his forehead, hoping it might ease the headache that was beginning as his sister’s negative emotions swelled against his mind’s shields.

“She can’t fire you for helping your students.” Raven’s voice had quieted considerably and she touched Charles’ arm gently, a physical apology for her outburst.

“She can do whatever she wants Raven. She is the head of the library.” Charles replied.

“Couldn’t you just, you know…” Raven gestured at Charles’ head.

“No I could not just…’you know’.” Charles frowned. “You know how I feel about using my mutation Raven. Not only is it completely unethical, if I reveal my true abilities to the wrong person, we will be kicked out of the country.”

“Yes, I do. ‘It’s dangerous Raven. I’ve hurt people before Raven. It’s not safe here Raven.’ Yadda yadda yadda. I mean seriously Charles, you need that job. Can’t you make an exception? How would anyone even know?”

“No.” Charles turned away, effectively ending the conversation.

He turned back to the kitchen counter and started dishing out the ramen into two bowls. Charles could feel Raven glaring at his back as he worked, but it didn’t take long for her emotions to settle and knowing their argument was likely over, he turned around to offer her a bowl. 

“So no more kebabs, just your delicious home cooked meals.” Raven said with a teasing smile.

“Well, you could contribute too.” Charles smiled back. “I know my cooking is sublime, but I suppose I would be willing to try something you –“

“Oh, shut up Charles. My cooking is a thousand times better then yours.” Raven rolled her eyes at him. “And I refuse to eat ramen noodles every day for dinner, which is about the only thing you ever make.”

“I can make beans on toast.” Charles added helpfully.

“Ew, Charles, just ew. Come on, pass the ramen over here. Let’s eat.”

* * *

“Mr. Xavier. Mr. Xavier.” Moira stared at Charles Xavier, one of her best brightest doctoral students and wondered what could possibly be making him so distracted.

Usually when her students were so thoroughly inattentive, she assumed they were having romantic troubles, but as far as she knew Charles life consisted only of his work with her as a TA, his research with Hank McCoy, and his home life, which he never really spoke about in any detail. If he had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, she had certainly not heard any gossip about it and generally her students were full of gossip and Moira always kept up to date on the latest juicy tidbits.

Knowing that Charles had come here for his mandatory monthly check-in regarding his research, Moira sighed and resorted to using her best ‘stern teacher’ voice.

“Charles!”

“Wha-“ Charles startled. “Oh, I’m so sorry Professor McTaggert. I just, ah, my mind wondered away on me there for a moment.”

Moira watched Charles’ pale face blush as he offered a rather pathetic looking apologetic smile.

“I know your research is going well Charles, I just spoke to Hank yesterday and he seems to be quite excited by the progress both of you have been making on the X-gene. I’m very pleased for you both.” Moira paused, taking time to select her words carefully given Charles’ private nature. “So, I would assume it’s not your research that’s got you so distracted. I know it can be hard to ask for help, but if there is anything I can help you with, anything at all, I would be happy to do so.”

Charles shifted in his seat across from her, and Moira watched as he clenched and unclenched his hands before answering.

“I lost my part time job at the library.” He replied, eyes flicking up to meet hers only momentarily, before looking back down at his hands. “I really needed to have a second job to cover all my expenses and I find myself unable to think of much else.”

If Moira was a hundred percent honest, Charles’ answer had surprised her. There was something about the way he carried himself, despite the ill fitting khaki pants, the oversized cardigans, and the horrendous corduroy jacket he wore that was obviously two sizes two big, that spoke of the kind of good breeding that only came from having money. However, growing up with money didn’t mean keeping said money, and Moira would hate for such an intelligent young man to be knocked off course due to finances.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She said confidently.

* * *

“Lehnsherr, I’m buying you lunch.”

Erik looked up from his desk to see one of his only on campus friends, Moira McTaggert, standing in his doorway. Although Moira was human and Erik often found himself at odds with humans who were uncomfortable with his mutation, Moira wasn’t bothered by his difference, as the head of the genetics department, she was fascinated by it. Being a fellow American had cemented their friendship, as they both understood the difficulties of acclimatizing to a new country. Plus Moira didn’t take shit from anyone, particularly Erik, which he had to admit he found quite admirable.

“What’s the special occasion?” Erik asked as he stood to grab his coat and follow Moira down the hall.

“Oh, nothing special at all. Just wanted to chat.” Moira replied with a shrug. “Come on, lunch is on me.”

Erik walked beside Moira in silence as they made their way to a small café just off campus.

“So,” he began, “what do you want? And don’t tell me you don’t want anything, you never pay for lunch if you aren’t going to ask for a favour.”

Moira sighed heavily. “You know me too well Lehnsherr.”

Erik watched as she took a quick sip of her piping hot latte before looking him in the eye.

“I have this student…”she began.

“If he needs counseling he can come see me during office hours. Assuming he’s a mutant.”

“If you’d stop interrupting, I would explain the situation to you.” Moira huffed. “He’s one of my doctoral students. He’s smart, shy, sweet, keeps to himself. Well it turns out he’s under some financial strain and needs a job.”

“And you thought of me?” Erik’s brow furrowed deeply in confusion.

“What I thought was: hey I know I guy who was supposed to hire a student to assist him with his filing and paperwork because his notes were such a mess last year, and he didn’t hire any of the applicants. But he must still be looking because he wouldn’t want to lose the additional funding to his department, would he? And he’s my friend, who would do me this small favour of helping one of my students, especially if I happened to hear some gossip in the engineering department about Gregston retiring sometime in the new year and there being an engineering professorship up for grabs.”

“You should have lead with the gossip Moira. For that kind of information I will hire your student, I would hire two of your students if I had the budget.” Erik growled. “When is Gregston retiring?”

“Nothing’s confirmed. The rumour mill suggests he’s trying to work out the school year, but his health has been poor and some people are betting he doesn’t make it that long. But, Erik this is really about Charles.” Moira redirected.

“Who’s Charles?” Erik asked, suddenly confused as Moira dragged him off his course from asking after the teaching position he coveted so dearly.

“My student – Charles Xavier. The one you’re going to hire. The whole reason I asked you to lunch.” Moira stated.

“Yeah, of course. Send him over to my office tomorrow at 9am.” Erik rushed out. “Now tell me more about Gregston.”

* * *

Charles hesitated outside the door of office 397. He was actually a few minutes early, which was impressive, as timeliness was not one of his virtues. But something kept him from knocking on the door.

Maybe it was the feeling of complete surprise that still lingered from his phone call with Professor McTaggert, who had called him yesterday afternoon to say she had found him a job on campus. Part of him was sure he was dreaming because such wondrous, glorious things just did not happen to him. Not to mention there really shouldn’t have been any on campus jobs open and available halfway through the semester.

Raven had been so excited on his behalf that she hadn’t even complained that he’d burned the mac and cheese he had made them for dinner. Instead, they had both grinned while pretending not to notice the distinctly charcoal taste of the meal, and had toasted to Charles success by drinking a truly terrible 10p bottle of red wine.

His feelings of unease could also be attributed to the fact that Raven had insisted on choosing his clothes for him, despite a rather heated argument. 

‘It’s a new job Raven, not a date!’ 

‘That doesn’t mean you should wear your homeless uncle clothes! Just for once let me pick out something for you that won’t make you look like you buy your clothes at a thrift store!’

Raven, of course, had won which had left him wearing a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and the one blazer he had that actually fit his frame. The whole ensemble made him twitchy- the shirt felt too tight, the jeans too stiff, and he longed for the missing comfort of a warm cardigan. He desperately wished he had packed a bag of his regular clothes to change into, but it was too late for that now.

Charles looked down one last time at his handwritten note, assuring himself that he had found the right room. ‘Erik Lehnsherr: Mutant Student Counselor’ was printed in bold letters across the door. Deciding it was better to get his first day at his new job started (surely his new boss couldn’t be worse than his last boss), Charles raised his hand and knocked on the door.

* * *

When Charles left Weschester almost seven years ago, with Raven following along happily behind him, it hadn’t been his most impulsively decision (that would be the time he kicked Cain in the balls while cornered in his room with no chance of escape except to jump out the second story window), nor was it his most thought out plan. All he had known was that he had to leave: one more beating from Cain and he wasn’t going to be able to explain away the broken bones to the hospital, or to Raven. One more night sitting with his step-father Kurt and his new military associates and he was bound to become the new lab rat of a highly secret, not-quite above board government agency.

His life was starting to become something akin to a horrible day-time-tv drama and Charles was not going to take it for one more minute. And he certainly wasn’t going to let Raven realize how ridiculous their lives had become.

And if that meant that the life that Charles had imagined he would have in college, which may have involved a fantasy where he was a least slightly cool, did not happen at all, well then so be it.

Sometimes Charles felt his personal growth, particularly in terms of romantic relationships had simply been stunted and was forever to remain exactly as it had been when he was sixteen: fooling around with half drunk people at parties, trying to figure out why he seemed to like both women and men, and desperately hoping he would finally be comfortable and confident enough to get beyond the flirty pick-up lines and drunken groping to an actual relationship. However, having a younger sibling to look after, and a limited budget, meant that the last six years had been filled with school, trying to be something of a responsible parental/brotherly figure to Raven, work, and the very occasional social outing.

Charles excelled at small talk, he was incredible at making people feel at ease, he could help anyone figure out what they really wanted and subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) guide them to their goals. He was also a master of never revealing much about himself, keeping himself at arms length from anyone who wasn’t Raven and never, ever, emotionally bonding with anyone. 

The reality of having a sustainable romantic relationship seemed an impossibility and it had been so long since Charles had even tried, there were times he questioned if he was even able to be attracted to someone sexually anymore. He was simply too tired, too busy, and frankly, too boring.

And so Charles was not at all expecting his own reaction to the man on the other side of the door. 

When Moira had said he was to assist a counselor, Charles had pictured someone kind, middle-aged, and perhaps slightly bumbling. Erik Lehnsherr was none of those things. Firstly, he was much younger than Charles had anticipated, likely in his early 30s, he was also long and lean, all hard edges and sleek muscles, and lastly his expression was not the least bit inviting, or kind, but rather displayed the sort of intense focus that was general reserved for a hunter stalking its prey. Altogether, it was a very intimidating image. And it sent lightning bolts of lust straight to Charles’ groin. The feeling was remarkably heady.

And though Erik’s physical presence was certainly notable, Charles couldn’t help but be mesmerized by his long fingers - images of sucking those fingers into his mouth played on a loop that Charles was unable to stop - it was Erik’s mind that was…overwhelming. Charles had never in his 22 years ever encountered a mind quite like it: bright, pulsing with intelligence and passion, inner most thoughts and memories guarded by a labyrinth, but surface emotions projected with an intensity that almost made him take a step back. It was absolutely intoxicating.

So distractingly intoxicating, that it took him several seconds to clue into the fact that the man in front of him was speaking- out loud- and that Charles was not responding.

“…you are Charles right?” the man in front of him frowned, causing his forehead to crease and sending waves of irritation (‘ he’s late’, ‘how young is this kid?’, ‘is he mute?’ ‘I don’t have all day’) toward Charles.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Charles replied quickly as he fortified his shields to better block out the intensity of Erik’s thoughts, while also taking a deep steadying breath and trying his best to stomp out the rather vivid sexual fantasies he kept having about Erik’s hands.

“Good and you’re on time. Punctuality is important to me. I understand that you are a student and some flexibility in your schedule is important, but I have high expectations for myself and anyone working with me.”

Charles could almost see the mental list that Erik was going through during his speech to Charles about expectations. His level of mental organization was really quite astounding. And since Erik obviously had many things he felt he needed to say, Charles contented himself to listening.

A couple of hours later, after Erik’s speech about expectations, his tour of the two small offices (the waiting room and the actual counseling office), an explanation of the filing system (which Charles was not to touch, Erik had a very complicated filing system that he did not have the time to explain), and a discussion about Charles’ schedule, it was becoming clear why Erik had had a job vacancy – he had no interest in relinquishing any control over his current system in the least, he wanted to take notes, transcribe them, file them, make his own appointments – it left very little for an assistant to do.

Charles could feel Erik projecting feelings of awkwardness as he realized he had no idea what to ask Charles to do, yet he felt obliged to find something because he had made a promise to Moira. 

Sensing his moment, Charles spoke up. “Perhaps I could screen your students for you?”

“Screen them.” Erik repeated.

“Yes. I could meet with them briefly before they see you to get an idea of what their issues are and provide you with a brief summary of their issues.”

“You wouldn’t counsel them, that’s my role.” Erik interjected.

“Oh, no, of course not.” Charles bit his lip, thinking of how best to phrase the service he was offering to Erik. “I would simply be the first stop to get to you. People can be the most emotional and upset when they first reach out for help – I could deal with the tears and the stories of heartbreak and then you can address the actual counseling issues: mutant student housing, discrimination, serious psychological issues.”

Charles could feel the waves of relief flowing off Erik as he thought of not having to deal with crying students every hour of every day. When Erik’s blue-grey eyes met his, he felt his stomach flip with another wave of intense attraction.

“That would be ideal.” Erik replied with a predatory grin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

“So, how’s it going with Charles?”

Erik looked across the table at Moira as she sipped her coffee and peered over at him quizzically. He opened his mouth to reply, but found himself at a loss for words.

How is it going with Charles? 

Well for starters, Charles was nothing like he thought he would be. He looked like he should still be in high school for one thing. He was amazingly good at talking to the mutant students who drop by the office and doesn’t seem to be the least bit put off by tears, stories of homesickness, or convoluted tales of romances gone wrong. And Erik sincerely appreciated having fewer emotional outbursts to deal with. Charles’ notes on his screening of students were very thorough, if also slightly odd: they always seemed to have doodles drawn down the side, too many exclamation points, and sometimes even little notes of advice for Erik, like ‘needs help making friends’, or ‘wants to feel meaningful’, or worst of all ‘needs a hug’ (as if Erik was ever going to hug a student!).

Despite all his good qualities, there’s also something about Charles that bothers Erik, keeping him on edge whenever Erik finds himself in close proximity to the young man. His clothes never fit right (except for the day they met when his clothes fit perfectly, showcasing a compact, lithe body): they seem to engulf Charles, making him look incredible small and fragile. Charles never brings food to his shifts, not even a snack and his Sunday shift goes from 10am-2pm and Erik has never seen him eat a morsel of food. Plus his big blue eyes are incredibly distracting and the freckles on his nose are adorable and, really, no one should have lips that are that red naturally…

“He doesn’t eat lunch,” Somehow pops out of his mouth unexpectedly.

“Excuse me?”

Moira looked at Erik intently, iced coffee set aside and forgotten.

“Um, he doesn’t eat lunch during his Sunday shift.” Erik replied slowly, wondering what exactly he is revealing to Moira by choosing to tell her this bit of information. He wouldn’t want her to get any strange ideas about Erik caring about Charles. 

“I just thought it was odd, usually students are always snacking on something.” Erik shrugged, trying his best to look casual. “Otherwise he’s been fine. Keeps his workspace a bit scattered, but he gets the work done.” Erik finished vaguely.

“Erik, have you ever meet anyone who keeps their workspace clean enough for your standards?” Moira asked pointedly, then chuckled. “Of course they haven’t, your standards are impossible.”

“They are not impossible. I do it every day.”

“Ugg. The arrogance is just dripping off you right now Lehnsherr.” Moira’s nose wriggled with disgust before she moved on, picking up her spoon and pointing it at him. “You should talk to him.”

“Talk to who?”

“Charles! You should talk to Charles. His research is really interesting and he’s very smart. I bet you haven’t said two words to him in weeks.”

“Of course I have.” Erik argued. 

Why just yesterday he said at least four words to Charles - _‘Hello’, ‘You’re late’, and ‘Goodbye’_.

“You’ll never know if you actually like people if you don’t take the time to talk to them.”

“I don’t want to ‘like’ my students.”

“First off, he’s not your student, he’s your employee. Secondly, I’m not saying you have to be best friends or fall in love with them – in fact student teacher romances are definitely not advised-, but students are the next generation, they have interesting opinions and ideas! We, as educators need to nurture that. Which brings me to point number three – if you are gunning for Gregston’s position, which I know you are, you need to prove you can inspire students, not just that you know the content of your classes. It will give you a serious leg up on your competition if you can show the head of the Engineering department that you actually like interacting with students!” Moira’s voice was enthusiastic until she looked more closely at Erik’s dumbfounded expression. “Ok, that you tolerate interacting with students and you accept that its part of the job.” She concluded. “Think of Charles as practice.”

“Hrumph. I suppose I could try.” Erik conceded, although he can’t quite imagine what he could talk about with Charles, surely they’d have nothing in common.

* * *

Charles was eternally grateful for his job at Mutant Counseling services, for multiple reasons. Obviously he needed a job to keep himself and Raven fed and housed and that was his top priority. 

However, the position had the side benefit of starting just as Raven’s school announced that they were planning a trip to Paris in the spring for all the students taking their A levels in art and Raven was excited beyond everything to go. After making some quick calculations about how much money he could save for the trip by skipping lunches and snacks, Charles had happily agreed that she could go with her classmates. Raven has been suspiciously nice to him ever since.

His new job also meant he got to see Erik Lehnsherr four times a week. Which was as blissful as it was torturous. Charles had never met anyone who was quite as contradictory as Erik. He was passionate about his work, which showed in how organized he was and how diligently he worked finding resources for mutants and legal loop holes to help them at every turn. But he also had no personal interest in anyone who walked through the door. He never made small talk with students and Charles was halfway sure Erik didn’t remember his name. And although Erik obviously took great interest in maintaining his personal appearance, his fashion choices did not fit in with the typical professor or university faculty member. Erik wore buttery khaki pants and a turtle neck, rather than tailored suits or tweed, and Charles had yet to see his without his well-worn and clearly well-loved leather jacket.

Most significantly, Erik’s mind was just so beautiful. Charles knew he should stop looking, even if he was only skimming the surface of Erik’s thoughts, enjoying how organized everything was and smiling at the spikes of emotion that thrummed through Erik’s otherwise ordered thoughts. He should also really stop thinking of his boss as “Erik”, since Erik, no Mr. Lehnsherr, had certainly never invited Charles to address him by his given name. But spending hours a week drawn to someone else’s mind had given Charles a sense of unearned familiarity that he just couldn’t seem to let go of, no matter how hard he tried.

“It’s weird that you have to work on Sundays Charles.” Raven flopped down on the couch beside him with a huff. “Are you heading to the lab after your shift today?”

“I am, but I’ll be home by 6pm. And you will not be sneaking out tonight to go to the party hosted by the hooligans down the street.” Charles answered calmly.

“Stay out of my head Charles!” Raven said, pushing him as she stood up from the couch.

“I hardly need to be inside your head when you’re projecting your thoughts about the party so loudly. And if you think I’m going to approve of you hanging out with a bunch of grown men who are going to sit around drinking beers and trying to get in the pants of teenage girls all night, you are sorely mistaken.” Charles replied as he marked yet another poorly written essay from his Intro to Genetics course.

“You never let me have any fun –“

“I am clearly fine with you having fun. I am paying for you to go to Paris in the spring. Can you at least wait until then and have a fling with a foreign artist, not a mostly illiterate Englishman whose hobby is bare-knuckle brawling?” 

Charles looked over at Raven, feeling completely exasperated and wondering if he was ever so ridiculous that he would set his romance sights on someone so inappropriate as the 27 year old delinquent down the road, only to remember that he was currently enamored with his boss.

Raven was standing arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him.

“Fine.” She answered. “But my foreign fling is going to be epic, Charles. Absolutely epic.”

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Raven quickly interrupted.

“No. No disapproval from you. You just gave me permission.”

Charles sighed as he watched Raven happily trot back to her room while singing, mostly off key, but very enthusiastically: _“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”_

He really needed to choose his words more thoughtfully in the future. Raven was never going to let him forget this conversation- ever.

On the bright side, she had yet to find out about his infatuation with his new boss. Given that Charles did not want to talk about this particularly intense crush with Raven and that he was horrible at keeping secrets from her, he still considered the evening’s discussion a win.

* * *

Erik stared at the containers of food in front of him and wondered again if he had momentarily gone insane when he had packed them up this morning.

Before him were two portions of brisket, mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas. Plus two large helpings of apple crumble. It was enough food to feed at least two, possibly three very hungry people.

Before he could give himself too much time to think, Erik grabbed all the food and marched out of his office into the waiting area currently occupied by his student assistant.

“Eat.” 

He dropped a meal in front of Charles’ startled face, sat down and immediately dug into his own food.

“Mr. Lehnsherr, I …” Charles stuttered, clearly unsure of what was going on.

“Eat.” Erik repeated, trying to make his voice sound calmer, more inviting.

Erik snuck glances at Charles as he continued to eat. He watched as Charles’ stunned, wide blue eyes finally lowered from Erik’s face to the food in front of him. Charles’ pale fingers gripped the cutlery Erik had provided slowly and he carefully picked out a piece of beef.

Erik wished he could say that he hadn’t noticed how red Charles’ lips were as he opened his mouth to eat. Or that the pleasured groaned Charles made as he tasted the food hadn’t struck Erik right in the groin and made his pulse race. Or that he hadn’t savoured the vision of Charles’ eyelashes fluttering before he opened those incredible blue eyes and looked up at Erik once more.

“This is delicious.” Charles said after his first mouthful, though he paused before taking another bite. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

“I made too much.” Erik said with a shrug. 

Which was at least partly true. He had made too much food for just himself. If he had knowingly made too much food because of his growing concern that Charles looked pale, and seemed to grow smaller every time he saw him, and he felt that he just had to get some food into the man, well he was the only one who needed to know.

Several minutes later, as Erik was mindlessly enjoying the first few bites of his apple crisp, he heard Charles say very softly. “You’re a very good cook, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

Erik paused, never one to quite know how to take a compliment, especially one about his domestic skills. 

“Erik. Call me Erik. Hearing you call me Mr. Lehnsherr makes me feel about 65.” Erik grumbled. “And the credit for the food goes to my mother. It’s her recipe.”

“She taught you well then.” Charles said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I can’t cook much of anything myself.”

“I think my mother was worried I’d starve if she wasn’t around and I didn’t know how to cook. She made me cook with her every weekend until I left for college.”

Erik could hardly believe the words that had just escaped of his mouth. He wasn’t one for sharing personal details, and yet there was something about talking to Charles that made him feel relaxed and strangely open.

“Your mother sounds wonderful Erik.”

Charles was smiling at him as he spoke, but Erik could see that his blue eyes looked dull and pained. Not wanting to continue with a topic that seemed to cause Charles distress, or divulge any more information about his personal life, Erik quickly turned to a subject he hoped Charles would be more comfortable talking about.

“What’s your major?” Erik inquired as casually as he could. He was almost certain Moira had mentioned something about what Charles was studying – probably something in the sciences if he was one of Moira’s students- but his mind had been completely focused on the possibility of a position in the Engineering Department at the time and he had no clue what she had told him.

“Genetics. I’m two years into my doctorate.” 

“Your doctorate.” Erik said slowly. Given that there were days when he was sure Charles, with his oversized clothes and innocent face was barely old enough to be an undergraduate student, seeing him as a doctoral candidate was nearly impossible. 

“How old are you?” He asked arching a brow.

Charles sighed. “I’m 22. Yes, yes, I know I look younger. I graduated high school a bit early, completed my undergraduate work quickly and well, here I am.”

Erik watched as Charles’ cheeks flushed pink, making him seem even more sweet and naive, which was almost comical given Charles’ obvious frustration at always being mistaken for being younger than he was. 

“I mean, really, my research partner is younger than I am, but no one ever comments about his age because he towers over every one.” Charles said with a slight frown. “Ah, to be tall.” He sighed wistfully and then looked up at Erik with a self-deprecating smirk on his face.

“Who’s your research partner?” Erik asked, not really interested in Charles’ answer so much as he was determined to keep Charles talking.

Until today Erik would have said he didn’t particularly like English accents, but there was something about Charles’ voice – the calm precision of it maybe – that Erik found he enjoyed immensely. 

“Oh, well I’ve been working for Hank McCoy for the past two years. He’s –“

“The boy genius of the Genetics Department.” Erik ground out, teeth clenched. “So you’re helping him with suppressants then?”

“Not a fan of suppressants I take it?” Charles’ tone was light, responding to Erik’s clear anger with a calm gentleness that Erik found only stoked the fire of his righteous indignation.

“No, I’m not. Suppressants are a weapon against our people. I find it hard to understand how Hank McCoy, a mutant, can continue his work with suppressants at all. And you,” Erik added pointedly, “you’re a mutant, aren’t you? How can you possibly justify –“

“I am a mutant. And I hardly need to justify my actions, or Hank’s. Suppressants are essential for some manifestations that are difficult to control, or dangerous. They allow the mutant time to learn control.”

“Suppressants have been used to control the mutant population and practically enslave them in some countries. You must know of the horrors that –“

“Of course I am aware of how suppressants have been used by some dictatorships, although I feel the issue there is really that evil people and evil regimes have used a beneficial tool as a weapon, not that the suppressants themselves are to blame.”

“They should be destroyed. Taken off the market.” Erik declared, watching Charles’ brow furrow and his teeth come out to bite at his lip.

“Surely things are not so black and white, Erik.” Charles responded. “Suppressants are not something of benefit to all mutants, but there are some mutants who chose to use suppressants. Perhaps they have never learned to control their mutation, or they have a visible mutation that they wish to hide. Not everyone is comfortable being a mutant, my friend.”

“So they should deny who they are?” Erik retorts, scowling at Charles innocent blue eyes and his simple declaration that they are ‘friends’.

“They should be able to choose.” Charles replies. “Would you really take that away from them, their choice?”

Erik finds the frankness of Charles direct stare unnerving. There is a steely strength beneath the sweet façade that Erik had thought was all there was to his assistant. Charles is clearly very intelligent, thoughtful, and sensitive. And yet…there is something more under the surface. Erik finds his interest is peaked: Charles is not simply the vulnerable young man Erik thought him to be.

“I don’t work with Hank on suppressants by the way.”

Erik was jerked from his thoughts by Charles’ offhand comment. He looked quickly over at the young man to find him happily digging into his apple crumble. His pink tongue flicked out to lick his fork in a motion that Erik could only describe as obscene, though also clearly completely genuine and not meant to be seen as the distraction it presented to Erik. It was impossible not to think about that tongue licking other things and those vivid images immediately interrupted Erik’s train of thought for several moments before he was able to process what Charles had said.

“You don’t research suppressants?”

Erik tried not to sound dumbfounded –after all they had just had a heated argument based solely on Erik’s assumption that Charles was peddling suppressants to the masses – but was pretty sure he’d failed miserably.

“No.” Charles answered, with a slight smile. “Hank truly is a genius. He was researching suppressants long before I arrived at Oxford. We started speaking about his work when I was still at a Columbia. My interest is more pure genetics than Hank, but he agreed to help me with my project to attempt to isolate the gene, or genes really, that cause mutation.”

“The mutant X gene.” Erik supplied, watching as Charles eyes lit up with excitement.

Erik spent the rest of the shift (during which, thankfully, not one student came by for counselling) listening as Charles rambled excitedly about genetics. It may possibly have been the best afternoon of his year so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and for your kudos and comments! I appreciate them all very much.
> 
> I am currently a few chapters ahead in writing this story and I hope to post a chapter a week while still staying ahead in my writing if possible. Wish me luck!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

“Are you excited about Christmas break?”

Charles startled in his chair, and grabbed a slide he’d almost knocked to the ground before turning to his research partner. Hank was not one for idle small talk in the lab and Charles could count on one hand the number of times he’d started a personal conversation while working on one hand. 

Charles turned toward Hank to give him his full attention, because surely such an unexpected conversation deserved it, and answered truthfully, but vaguely.

“I suppose. I am looking forward to having time for some recreational reading.”

Hank didn’t look satisfied with his answer. Charles was sorely tempted to brush against his mind to try and discern just why Hank has decided to talk to him about something not science related, but decides to just go for directness instead.

“Why do you ask?”

Hank’s expression looked so pained, he instantly regretted his choice. Hank is not Erik, who appreciated very much when Charles got right to the point and tended to interrupt him whenever he danced around things too long.

_‘Don’t spare my feelings Charles, tell me what you think!’_

_‘It’s a complicated and delicate issue Erik! Forgive me for feeling my way around the problem.’_

_‘Screw sensitivity, Charles. I prefer brutal honesty.’_

No, Hank was certainly not Erik. He was wringing his hands and looking down hand hanging, as he paced across the floor.

“You’ve been different lately.” He finally got out, looking at Charles hesitantly. “Your happier, smiling more often.”

Charles was sure his confusion is written all over his face – Hank was worried because he’s happy?

“And that’s good!” Hank added quickly. “But you’ve been a bit more distracted too. Sometimes your late for our Sunday lab time.” Hank shrugged hopelessly, apparently out of words to express himself.

“I’m sorry Hank. I didn’t mean for anything to affect my work - no our work here.” Charles stood up and stepped closer to Hank , laying a hand gently on his shoulder and trying to still the nervous energy that seems to be pouring off of his colleague and friend.

“I know that, Charles. I really do.” Hank sighed, trying to look Charles in the eye, but not quite succeeding. “Professor Clarke stopped by last Sunday.”

“Oh, Hank. I am so sorry I wasn’t there.”

Charles squeezed Hank’s shoulder firmly and brushed ever so lightly against Hank’s mind, easily slipping into the younger man’s uncomfortable and distressing memory of Professor Clarke’s latest visit to the lab. Clarke was an unpleasant man at the best of times – far too full of himself and his own belief in his superior status and influence – and this visit has obviously not been the best of times.

Recently Professor Clarke had been hounding professors and graduate students in multiple departments - anyone doing any research related to mutants. He’d been trying to strong arm people into releasing information about mutants, or in Hank and Charles’ case about mutants and mutation in general, to him in his official capacity as both Vice Chancellor of University and as an agent of the British Government (not that Clarke had been particularly forthcoming about how he was connected to the government or what the government wanted with all this mutant data). 

His visit with Hank had been nothing more than very heavy-handed suggestion, bordering on intimidation, all in an attempt to get Hank to turn over his research and confidential files on mutants who had volunteered to assist with any of that research, to Professor Clarke. Clarke had been condescending and vain, and had spent a good portion of his visit back handedly insulting Hank both for doing research about mutants and for not sharing his results.

Charles could feel the fear and shame that Hank had felt during the visit as he had struggled to protect his research (and his fellow mutants), while also finding himself completely unable to stand up to Clarke in any way due in part to his naturally shy personality, but also from years of deep self loathing.

Charles shuddered slightly under the weight of Hank’s internalized hatred of his own physical appearance, pulling slowly back from Hank’s mind.

“I should have been there, my friend.” Charles apologized, knowing that he generally handles Professor Clarke with a practiced air of boredom specific to young men who grow up with incredible wealth and privilege, saving Hank from any overt confrontations. 

“It won’t happen again.”

* * *

“Charles. Chaaarrlessss.”

Charles was trying his best to ignore Raven’s pestering and groaning as he browsed the aisles hunting for…something, but it had become increasingly impossible since Raven was now literally trying to drag Charles away by his arm.

“Raven, stop please.” Charles pleaded. “I am trying to find –“

“We have been to five thrift stores today Charles.” Raven whined. “Five. I have no idea what you’re looking for – apparently not your usual cardigans and button downs, but I am done! You know I hate the weird smell of these places right?” Raven finished as she scrunched up her nose in distaste.

Charles sighed, he really did not have much patience for this today. He was nursing a dull headache after a horrible night’s sleep, where he’d had lucid dreams of being strapped to a cold, metal table as he was injected over and over again with drug cocktail meant to supress his psionic abilities. The dream was really a horribly awful amalgamation of his experiences at the hands of both his father and step-father, both of whom had treated Charles as a science experiment, though with completely different intentions. Upon waking, Charles had felt more exhausted than when he had settled down for the night. 

Listening to Raven complain about having to set foot in thrift stores was doing nothing to help his head, or his mood.

“Please tell me you’re not looking for my present in one of these places?” Raven pleaded.

“Of course not.” Charles rolled his eyes. “I would never shop for your present in front of you.”

Which was true. Raven would have ferretted out her Christmas present far too soon if she even suspected he had bought one. Which was why Charles had ordered her an extensive set of art supplies from his lab computer on campus months ago and had them delivered there, where she was not going to find them until Christmas morning.

“Nor would I get you something from a thrift store.” He added pointedly. “I remember your gift rankings quite clearly.”

“I was eight Charles! You got me a Star Wars Lego set and Gina got me my first make-up kit – of course I was going to like her gift better.” Raven tugged on his arm again. “So, are we going home, or what?”

“I’m trying to find a gift for –“ Charles caught himself before he could let Erik’s name escape, but Raven was staring at him expectantly”- my boss.” Charles finished, hoping his exhaustion didn’t cause him to slip again.

“Your boss? The new guy you’ve been working for, hmmm.” Raven stepped back, looking at him for a bit longer than Charles was comfortable and causing him to worry she was reading something off his face he didn’t want her to see.

“Well I guess that would be hard. You never talk about him. He must be some kind of boring, because you usually have something good to say about everyone.” Raven swung around and headed for the door. “I’m going to get a latte Charles. And if you aren’t done when I get back I am dragging you out of this place.”

Charles was looking up to ceiling in exasperation, when he caught sight of it -the present. It was of course on the very top shelf, far above where Charles could reach. Craning his head around to find anyone who worked in the shop, Charles’ eyes finally found a young woman with hair dyed an eclectic assortment of colours and a bored expression on her face.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

* * *

Erik thrived on routine. He was creature of habit: a fact that Magda had complained about on several occasions - apparently relationships with no spontaneity were doomed to fail – but Erik needed order and predictability in his life. 

His liked his 5am runs, every day but Saturday when he instead went to the local pool and swam lengths with a few senior citizens and a couple of teenagers who might well have been training for the Olympics considering how early they were at the pool on a Saturday morning. He liked that he knew where every pencil and pen was in his office, not just because he could feel the metal, but also because he always kept them in the exact same place, in a precise order. He loved that his filing system was organized both alphabetically and chronologically and he could always find his physical notes at a moments notice (if no one could read his hand writing, that was their issue). He liked the consistency of talking to his mother on the phone every Wednesday evening at exactly 7pm and then Skyping with her on Sundays to let her know the results of his latest cooking endeavour. He liked changing the oil in his old beater on VW’s exact recommended schedule and washing his car inside and out every weekend, even though it still looked like a piece of shit that might fall apart on its next trip to the university.

Generally, Erik did not like change to his routine. But over the last month, his Saturdays and Sundays had changed because of Charles, and Erik found it to be unexpectedly fulfilling.

Making bigger meals had caused him to ask his mother for many of the recipes that she used to make when Erik had been a teenager and was eating enough to feed a small army. The results had brought back pleasant memories of his childhood and they always seemed to satisfy Charles, who never left a single morsel on his plate. Erik himself was happy to indulge in watching Charles eat and seeing how his cheeks had filled out again and his clothes, though still baggy, no longer looked quite so oversized on his compact frame.

Sundays at work had changed the most. Erik now come into the office earlier to get as much paperwork done before Charles arrived as possible. Sundays had always been slow traffic days, with only the occasional student dropping by for help and Erik was thankful that that had not changed. Over the past few weeks he had slowly bumped his lunch break earlier so he had more time to eat and then debate with Charles. Last week, lunch had begun a full 30 minutes earlier than typical at 11:30, which simple left more time for discussion. They never seemed to run out of topics to converse about: politics, science, philosophy, literature, and even pop culture (if anyone ever suggested Erik had had a 20 minute conversation about the Graham Norton Show, he would vehemently deny it).

One of the only things they had not talked about was Charles’ mutation. Erik knew Charles was a mutant and that he was fascinated with Erik’s abilities - his gleeful delight whenever Erik demonstrated his power was obvious in every breathless laugh and each genuine compliment: _‘That was incredible Erik!’_

Normally, Erik would have pushed about knowing more about Charles’ mutation. Magda, in one of their more epic fights, had said she was stunned he was with her, an average human, when he seemed to have such a hard-on for mutants, especially those who were confident about their abilities. She had not been too far off. Erik loved mutations, the visible and invisible ones. He got tremendous pleasure from watching the abilities of others and he greatly desired to live in a world where no mutant ever had to hide who they were. But Charles… was Charles. He was different (although Erik could hardly explain why he was different) and Erik was content to let him be. When he was ready to talk about his mutation, Erik would be ready to hear all about it.

With the Christmas break fast approaching, Erik had made the decision not to buy Charles a present, which had been more difficult than it should have been. Instead, Erik had planned to let Charles have his last few shifts off and give him a longer break. He had decided this was professional, yet also thoughtful, and thus well within the boundaries of a student/faculty member, or boss/employee type relationship. 

If only Charles hadn’t seemed oddly twitchy this morning, maybe Erik wouldn’t have been second-guessing himself.

Checking his watch and seeing it was 11:25am, Erik grabbed his food containers and made his way out to Charles, and plopped himself and the food down, trying his best to appear completely normal.

“Eat.” He grinned teeth showing, using the same line he did every Sunday at lunch.

“Thank you, my friend.” Charles replied.

Erik watched him as he ate, cataloguing Charles’ little hums of pleasure and how his eyelids would flutter closed when he got a particularly good bite of food. He wondered absently why he had thought giving Charles more time off was a good idea, as it meant it would be three weeks until Erik saw him again on a Sunday. Three weeks without seeing Charles lick his lips to get every speck of food. Three weeks without someone who would go toe to toe with him in a debate, never back down, and never lose Erik’s respect even when they disagreed.

Erik is so lost in thought, wondering how he is going to survive three weeks without Charles (probably more Skype calls with his mother), when it hits him then that aside from Charles, Moira, and his mother, he has no social life to speak of and that maybe that’s a bit odd. Maybe it was time Erik went to a bar and picked up a stranger for a quick fuck – it’s been ages since he’s had sex and there was a slim chance that having sex with a random stranger might help him stop fantasizing about Charles’ mouth and the wicked, naughty things it could do to Erik’s cock.

“Erik?” 

The soft sound of Charles’ voice wrenched Erik out of a particularly vivid and completely inappropriate fantasy that revolved around Charles’ ruby red lips. 

Erik coughed as he looked over at Charles, who was frowning back at him, face full of, well Erik isn’t quite sure what. Charles looked concerned, nervous and somewhat amused all at once, which left him looking somewhat out of sorts. 

“Are you going to take it?” Charles asked, nodding his head slightly.

Erik realized, quite belatedly, that Charles was holding something out toward him, something that was wrapped in bright red wrapping paper. Something Erik certainly should have noticed earlier.

“I…yes, I…thank you.” He managed to mumble, taking the offered gift and noticing that Charles was fidgeting again in his chair.

Erik’s brain put two and two together- this was why Charles was nervous earlier, why he was still nervous now. He, unlike Erik, did buy a present and he was afraid of how Erik might react. The fact that Erik was just sitting there, gift in hand, not saying anything was probably not helping, but Erik felt a little lost for words at the moment. 

Erik tore his gaze away from Charles’ deep blue eyes and looked down at the gift, hoping that he might regain some composure, or at the very least the ability to say something.

“Thank you.”

There – words have been spoken. Normal, socially acceptable words. And Erik thought he sounded pretty much like he always did, maybe just a little bit hoarse.

“You can’t thank me. You don’t know what it is.”

Erik looked up at Charles and then back to the gift once more. He used his powers to levitate a knife and slashed precisely at the wrapping paper, opening both ends and then delicately slid the present out of its packaging.

“You bought me a chess set.” Erik finds his voice sounds distant, as he stared at the wooden board.

“I remembered you said you used to play.”

Erik had mentioned that during one of their debates. They had been discussing mutant segregation and identification in schools, reflecting briefly on their own experiences and Erik had made some offhand comment that the only good thing about being separated and placed with other mutants in high school for his mandatory ‘Mutant Safety Class’ (really a ‘how mutants are freaks so you better control yourselves’ class) was that he had finally met another student who knew how to play chess. 

His father had taught him how to play and it was one of the only memories Erik had of the man who had died when Erik was only seven years old. For years, Erik had continued to play with some of the older men at the Synagogue, but he never played with people his own age until the Mutant Safety Class.

Charles had said that day that his father had taught him to play chess as well. And the look that he had given Erik – a look of deep sadness and understanding – had told Erik that Charles understood exactly what chess meant to him. That he too cherished the game for both its complexity and mental stimulation, but also for the memories that were forever connected to learning the game from a father gone too soon.

“Play a game with me?” Erik found himself asking.

It was only later, as they finished off a third game of chess (which Charles had won after a well fought battle) and Erik watched Charles pack up his things and rush off to do more lab work, that he realized he had never given Charles his ‘present’. He had completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I appreciate every single one of you.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

Moira had had enough – enough of Professor Clarke sticking his nose into everybody’s business, enough of his intimidation tactics with students, and enough of his attempts to go over her head when he didn’t get the results he was hoping for. 

She walked briskly through the grounds of Oxford on a mission to mount a counter attack. She was starting with the one person she knew would be just as motivated to take Clarke down as she was – Erik Lehnsherr.

Arriving outside his office, Moira was just about to open the door when an unexpectedly loud voice stopped her mid-motion.

“For the love of – urgh – move! You’ve been fiddling around forever, move dammit!”

Coarse language from Erik was not surprising to Moira – she’d heard far worse from him at the pub after work. To hear his rough, frustrated tone, coupled with such choice words during office hours, however, was a bit unexpected.

Moira, ever the unashamed lover of gossip, leaned closer to the door to figure out who Erik could possibly be talking to or about.

“I wasn’t aware there was a time limit.” Was the reply.

“If you don’t move –“ Erik practically growled.

“I will move when I’m good and ready, Erik.”

“Fuck you, you teasing little shit. I’ll do it for you if I have to.”

“Well that would hardly be fair, would it?”

Moira looked at the door in front for her for a moment, quickly checking her watch to make sure she had arrived during Erik’s office hours (yes, yes she had). She was starting to wonder whether she was listening to an argument or something…else. 

Moira decided that it was better to act than not (which, frankly, was her typical attitude to life), so she took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle, sincerely hoping she wasn’t about to walk in on Erik, or worse a student, in a compromising position (and by compromising she meant naked and possibly having sex on the other side of the door).

Moira pushed the door open harder than needed, banging it against the doorstop. Taking in the scene before her, she was relieved to find everyone had their clothes on. In fact, Erik was leaning over a desk, glaring at Charles of all people, who was seated a good two feet away from him on the other side of the desk and they were separated by a … chess board?

“Sorry to interrupt.” Moira said, feeling both thankful that she hadn’t walked in on Erik having sex, and confused that what she had interrupted was a game of chess – she’d certainly never seen anyone get so heated over chess before.

“It’s fine.” Erik responded, briefly glancing at Moira before turning his attention back to the man across from him. “Maybe Charles will finally move his piece now.”  
Moira watched as Erik grinned his positively scary, shark-like grin at Charles. Amazingly, Charles simply smiled right back with a cheeky grin Moira had never seen cross his face before.

“Done.” Charles said as he placed his bishop on the board and then looked up. “Hello Moira. Apologies for Erik’s rudeness, he gets so very grumpy when he’s losing.”

“I am not losing.” Erik was now standing upright, arms crossed over his chest, glaring down at Charles, who was smiling happily.

“Indeed, you are.”

Moira was wondering what alternate universe she’d entered: apparently it was one where her brilliant, but shy student, Charles, was confidently teasing Erik Lehnsherr, one of the most anti-social and intimidating people she had ever met.

“Ah, well, I was wondering…” She stammered, trying to find her footing in this new, unfamiliar world. “If Erik has a moment…?”

Erik glanced at his watch, frowned down at it and looked over at Charles. 

“You have to get going, it’s almost 2 o’clock.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you Erik.” 

Charles began to pack up his things as Erik turned to face Moira.

“You want to talk here, or go for coffee?” he asked.

“Here would be better.” What she had to say was best kept as private as possible.

Moira stepped forward, making her way fully into Erik’s office. As she moved, Charles made his way to the door, his book bag slung across his shoulder.

“It’s very nice to see you Professor McTaggert. I hope you have a happy Christmas.” This time Charles gave her his sweet smile, the one she was used to receiving. “Oh, and Erik?” He added, with a look that was part innocence and part mischief. “You were right, you aren’t losing. I think if you check the board you’ll find you’ve lost. Checkmate in 5.”

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

“He’s been purposefully intimidating graduate students in several departments. It has to stop. He’s crossed a line. I want it to stop.” Moira finished.

“He’s a prejudiced asshole who thinks humans should control all mutants because they are rightfully superior.” Erik growled. “It better fucking stop.”

Moira watched Erik as he paced angrily back and forth in his office. His dislike (well, hatred might be a more appropriate description) of Professor Clarke was long standing. Moira knew Erik suspected Clarke had more than a little to do with his inability to get a position in the Engineering Department, since he was very close friends with the Head of Engineering, Professor Bagwell and his prejudice against mutants was no secret. Not to mention Clarke’s clearly anti-mutant actions across campus had solidly put him on Erik’s shit list.

“I, and at least three other professors, are ready to come forward to file an official complaint. Clarke has been going directly to graduate students, even some undergraduates who are research assistants, and pressuring them to release information about mutants on campus. And he’s doing that after myself and many other professors have expressly asked him to stop harassing our students. Not to mention he knows all students who participate in research studies are guaranteed their information will be kept confidential, particularly mutants who participate in research about mutation – we’d hardly get many participants otherwise and it’s the basics of ethical research.”

“He just wants to expose us. Tell everyone how many ‘dangerous’ mutants walk around campus every day. Try to get us all kicked out.” Erik grumbled, running his hands over his face. “You have other people willing to come forward?”

Moira hated the almost disbelieving look on Erik’s face - he was always so suspicious, so sure no one would ever back him up, or back up mutants, especially humans. It was heartbreaking how alone Erik seemed to feel, even when sitting across from his friend.

“Yes. Myself, Jamison from the anthropology department, Sharapov from the physics department, and Professor Gregston.”

“Gregston? Really?”

“Yes, really.” Moira replied. “I know he’s never been particularly vocal about supporting mutants before, but he wrote a very strongly worded letter, even though he’s been unwell, about Clarke’s behaviour. Apparently, both his grandchildren are mutants and it’s been a motivator for him to become an active ally to mutants and mutant causes.”

“Oh, well if he’s related –“

“Just stop Erik.” Moira cut off what was no doubt the start of a sarcasm filled rant. “I know it’s not ideal, but we have his support and we are going to take it. He’s a senior faculty member, his voice carries much more weight than myself.”

“Or Sharapov, who as a mutant will be seen as biased.” Erik sighed deeply. “I have at least 6 student complaints as well. I’ve already filed a couple of them, but I can talk to the other students and see if they would be comfortable filing with you and the other faculty in one complaint. More voices being stronger and all that.”

“We’ll plan to have it in after the break.” Moira nodded.

“I could get it written up right away –“

“Erik, people are going to be celebrating with their families and friends. Some won’t even be here in Oxford.” Moira interjected. “We can wait a few weeks. Clarke won’t be getting any more done than we will over the Christmas break.”

“Yeah.” Erik replied quietly, expression guarded.

“You’re really good at this Erik. You care so much.”

“I don’t –“

“You do. You might not call it ‘caring’, but you do. You want things to be better for mutants. You want the world to treat them fairly. It’s not a bad thing to be good at this job, you know?” Moira teased. “And I see you’ve been talking to Charles.”

“You’re fishing Moira.” Erik complained.

“I am following up on our previous conversation.” Moira said innocently. “You know, the one where I told you to talk to Charles? Seems like I was right, you should get to know your students – it can apparently lead to strangely intense games of chess.”

“Our game of chess was completely normal.” Erik objected. “And I am not going to be “getting to know my students”.”

“Just genius doctoral students? Maybe I should introduce you to Hank, Charles’ research partner?” Moira suggested, only half seriously.

“I have attempted to have a conversation with Mr. McCoy in the past. It was rather one sided.” Erik replied drily. “I think he might have found me slightly… off-putting.”

“Well you do scare off the majority of the population.” Moira replied.

Moira smiled fondly at Erik, and was unsurprised when all he did was stare at her blankly. Grabbing her purse, she stood up and motioned to the door.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We can go get coffee and you can tell me all about how horrible your holidays are going to be because your mother isn’t here to cook for you.”

“Fine.”

Moira watched as Erik huffed and grabbed his book bag. Then he paused and slowly, carefully put away the chess set, tucking it onto the bookshelf in the corner of his office. She could have sworn she caught a look of sad longing on his face for a moment, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

* * *

“This was a raging success Charles! How many boxes of stuffing did we get anyway? I can’t believe…” Raven stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing Charles was not beside her.

She finally spotted him several yards behind her, staring wide-eyed at a man who seemed to be ranting passionately about...something.

“Charles!” Raven rushed to reach his side and pulled him forward, away from the mad man. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Raven continued to drag Charles along as he muttered about ‘ _creationists_ ’, ‘ _the world is not 2000 years old_ ’, ‘ _how could the earth possibly be flat?_ ’, ‘ _what are schools teaching people these days_ ’, and so on and so forth.

“Are you done letting the crazy man get to you Charles?” 

“He said the earth was flat and surrounded by a wall of ice. I think he might be confusing reality with Game of Thrones. It’s utterly ridiculous.” Charles sounded absolutely astounded. 

“Let it go Charles. People believe lots of weird shit.” 

“He didn’t believe in evolution Raven. Evolution! He thought there were dinosaurs on Noah’s ark. Dinosaurs!” 

Raven had feeling that if Charles had not been carrying several bags of food they had just acquired from a local food bank that had been giving away special Christmas hampers, he would have been gesticulating wildly. 

“Guess he thought it was a really big boat.” Raven turned to look directly at her brother. “I’m done with this ridiculous conversation – okay? I want to go home. I want to eat some of this stuffing. I’ll even try some of the Spam and hope it tastes something like turkey. I want to have Christmas, Charles.” 

Raven knew she sounded like a child. She knew she was pleading a bit too desperately, but she just wanted something good to come of this otherwise horrible day.

A day in which she had realized (and really, why hadn’t she figured this out earlier- Charles usually couldn’t keep anything from her) that Charles had been skimping on his own meals to pay for her trip to Paris. And that her school had required a deposit for the trip right before the holidays, which meant Charles had completely run out of money for food for them 2 days before Christmas. Coming home from a hellish shift at her crummy waitressing job to find her brother trying to hide flyers from the local food bank in order to keep them fed had been awful. Keeping a cheery façade while they had picked up a food hamper, surrounded by hoards of other people, some of whom seemed to be on drugs, or ill, or both, had been tiring. 

Raven just knew if Sharon Xavier could see her and Charles right then, she would have turned over in her grave. 

Only a few minutes later, after Raven had gotten Charles to stop complaining, and apologizing to her for complaining, they were finally approaching the park at the edge of their neighbourhood. 

Suddenly, Raven heard a strange tearing noise, followed by a thunk. 

“Oh.” The amount of disappointment in that one small word was indescribable. 

Raven looked at Charles, who was looking at the pavement, which was now covered in groceries that had fallen out of the bottom of the torn grocery bags flapping uselessly in Charles’ hands. 

“Oh.” Charles repeated. “Bollocks.” 

Raven honestly considered crying for about 5 seconds, before her thoughts were interrupted. 

“Charles?” 

Raven turned toward the voice that had spoken and found herself looking at an Adonis-like man, wearing track pants and a tight fitting t-shirt that clung to an impossibly narrow waist. He had a duffle-style gym bag slung over his shoulder. Sweat was beading on his forehead and dripping down the sides of his face, but that only added to his appeal. 

Raven looked over at Charles, who seemed to be at a loss for words, mouth hanging open slightly, gawking at the man in front of them. 

“You know this guy Charles?” Raven finally asked to break the silence. “Cause he seems to know you.” 

“Um. I…yes. I…er…yes.” Charles stuttered. “This is my boss, Mr. Lehnsherr, er, Erik. Erik this is my sister, Raven.” 

“This is your boss?” Raven arched a brow and gave this ‘Erik’ a very slow and thorough investigation. 

Seeing Erik’s objectively perfect physique and her brother’s inability to form coherent sentences, Raven found herself putting a few pieces of the ‘why Charles never talks about his new job’ puzzle together. Raven tried to give Charles a pointed look, but he remained oblivious as he stared at his boss as if his worst nightmare and biggest wish had just come true all in the same moment. 

“Jeez Charles, just ask the guy to help us out will you?” 

“Oh, yes! Er, we seem to have gotten some faulty bags…” Charles gestured lamely at the food currently surrounding him. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. No need to trouble yourself. Just a few items really.” 

“I can help you get your groceries home.” Erik replied, immediately bending over and picking items up off the ground, putting them carefully inside his duffle bag. 

Raven happily strode over and helped Erik put the canned and boxed food in his bag. She rolled her eyes at Charles as he continued to stand around apparently still unable to process what was happening right in front of him. Finally, he moved and grabbed the last couple of cans from the ground. 

Raven stood up and leaned over toward her brother playfully. 

“I knew you had a secret! I just knew it!” She whispered. “You are going to spill everything when we get home.” 

Raven smirked, full of anticipatory excitement and she almost skipped as they all slowly started walking to the park across the street. Beside her, Charles looked like he might throw up. This day had suddenly gotten considerably better. 

* * *

Seeing Charles standing on the sidewalk just down the road from his gym had been a shock. Seeing him standing beside a statuesque blonde had been momentarily disorientating. Erik had felt his stomach churning and a small part of him had wanted to turn around and walk the other direction at the mere thought of Charles walking around Oxford with a beautiful woman. 

But of course, he’d had to look at Charles before he turned, just one more time. And that was when he’d noticed the shocked and sad expression on Charles’ face and the packages littered all around Charles’ feet. He couldn’t possibly have left after that – Erik’s feet seemed to move on their own, in a determined pace, eating up the pavement between him and Charles in seconds. 

Discovering that the very pretty and very young blonde was Charles’ sister had been a welcome relief. Having to deal with her unending questions as they walked had not. Realizing amidst all the personal questions that he was walking toward one of the less savoury neighbourhoods of the city put him on edge once more. 

“You know Charles never really talks about you. That’s why I have all these questions.” 

Erik couldn’t think of how to possibly reply to that comment, so he just fixed Raven with his best glare and kept on walking, hoping Charles was going to stop at one the houses soon, because they just kept getting more and more rundown the farther they walked. But Charles just kept walking, cans of peas clutched in his hands. 

“You know we’re American too, right?” Raven continued despite Erik’s lack of response. “Well, I am anyway. Charles was born here in England, but he grew up in the States. So he’s like, quasi-American.” 

Erik managed to grunt in reply. He’d thought university students were annoying, but apparently high school students were a hundred times worse. 

At that moment, Charles stopped so suddenly beside him, that Erik almost tripped over his own feet to stop himself. 

“Well,” Charles said softly “this is us.” 

“Home sweet home.” Raven added. “Just a hundred or so stairs to go.” 

Climbing up the worn wooden staircase, with its ripped wallpaper, creaky stairs, and lack of adequate lighting, Erik felt his temper rising. Charles lived here? Erik could smell some sort of horrible stench wafting from the second floor, but ahead of him, Charles just keep trudging up the stairs. 

“Watch your step here.” Charles voice said. “The left half of this stair is a bit unstable. Keep right.” 

This was completely unacceptable. Erik could feel the anger pulsing in his veins, just imagining what an utter scumbag of a landlord Charles must have to leave this place, where a child (Raven obviously still being a child in Erik’s opinion) lived, in such disrepair. 

When they finally got to the very top of the stairs and into the tiny, cluttered apartment, Erik was seconds away from beginning an epic rant about substandard living conditions and the rights of renters, when Charles finally turned and looked at him. Really looked at him, for the first time since Erik had spotted him outside his gym.

Erik had never seen that look on Charles’ face before – pleading, exhausted, and possibly on the verge of tears. Erik’s anger simmered, but he pushed it down as best he could and focused on Charles. And he knew, without a doubt, that if it had just been he and Charles alone at this moment, that he would not have been able to stop himself from reaching out and touching the younger man, folding him in his arms and just holding him. And he thought, just maybe, from the look in Charles’ wide blue eyes, that he might have felt the exact same way. 

* * *

Maybe he was doomed to a life of failure. It certainly felt like it today. He had virtually no money for food, Raven had found out they were broke and he had gone to a food bank and had an argument about evolution with man who was both a creationist and a flat earther (when did people start thinking the world was flat again!? Preposterous!). Charles may have been a genius in some areas, but he certainly felt like he was failing at life today. 

To add insult to injury, Erik had suddenly appeared, and now here he was in his sad, pathetic little apartment, staring at Erik, who was looking right back at him with that intense expression he so often wore when trying to solve problems for students. Charles did not want Erik to see him that way – as problem to be fixed, as some helpless kid who couldn’t take care of himself or his sister. 

Speaking of said sister, Raven waltzed by at that moment, breaking the spell that Charles and Erik had been under, staring at each other but not moving an inch. 

“Come on Charles, I’m starving! Show the boss man into the kitchen.” 

“Er, of course.” Charles turned and waved vaguely toward their tiny kitchen. “Right this way.” 

Trying to fit three people into the miniscule galley kitchen was almost impossible. Charles kept bumping into his sister and Erik, until finally Raven grabbed the duffle bag of food and shooed both him and Erik out of the kitchen, declaring she was going to make ‘at least two pounds of stuffing’ for supper. 

“Well, I hope you like stuffing,” Charles quipped, hoping to bring some levity to an otherwise horrible day. 

“You’re inviting me to stay for supper,” Erik said, as he sat down on the lumpy sofa in the living room. 

“Well it’s the least we can do to thank you.” Charles replied, taking a seat in the threadbare chair across from Erik. “You finding us tonight was quite fortuitous. I’m not sure how we would have gotten everything back without you.” 

Charles felt himself flush, realizing once more that Erik was in his apartment, Raven had met him, and his secret crush on his boss was no longer a secret at all, at least to Raven. 

“Hey Erik!” Raven shouted from the kitchen. “What’s your power?” 

“Raven, it’s rude to just –“ 

“Mutant and proud Charles, right?” Raven smiled. “I can do this.” 

Raven quickly changed her form from her typical blonde, to her natural blue self, and then into Boris Johnson – it was not a particularly good look. She was grinning widely when she settled back into her blue form. 

“Impressive.” Erik responded. 

“Shocking and terrible.” Charles added. “I’ll thank you to never bring Boris Johnson to our humble abode again, please.” 

“So, what do you do?” Raven persisted, ignoring Charles and keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Erik. 

“This.” Erik held out his hand and floated a trio of coins up from the table into the air, swirling them in intricate patterns, before gently setting them back on the table. 

“Cool. Telekinesis?” Raven asked. 

“Close. I control electromagnetic fields.” 

“Show him what you can do Charles.” Raven said excitedly. 

“Raven, I can’t –“ Charles panicked. 

“Oh, relax Charles, we’re all mutants here.” 

When Charles did nothing but sit, legs crossed, arms gripping the chair tightly, Raven huffed in frustration. 

“Charles can –“ 

“Raven, that’s enough.” Charles stood up abruptly as he spoke, walked quickly over to Raven and hauled her toward the bathroom, closely the door firmly behind them. 

“This is not a game Raven.” He hissed when they were alone. 

“I know Charles, but he’s a mutant. And you’re completely in love with him, aren’t you?” 

“Raven…I…it doesn’t matter. My mutation must remain between us. I wish, I truly desperately wish, this was my secret and mine alone, but it’s ours. If my mutation is discovered, we will be deported, my academic career will be over, and we will be back in the US, fighting with Kurt and Cain over whatever is left of our inheritance.” 

“Why would he ever tell, Charles? He’s a mutant- he works everyday helping mutants.” Raven argued. 

“He could be seen as an accomplice in this whole charade if I’m ever caught. I can’t…I can’t hurt him Raven. I can’t.” 

Charles fought to keep his voice calm and to keep his emotions from spilling over to Raven, but given the expression on her face, he’d failed. 

“Oh Charles.” Raven wrapped her arms tightly around him. “You really do love him, don’t you? You are such a ridiculous romantic.” Charles felt Raven pull away from him slightly to look him directly in the eyes. “You know you look at him like he hung the moon, right?” 

“Surely I’m not that obvious.” Charles protested. 

“It’s obvious to me. The sister who saw how hard you fell for Bobby Freeman in the 8th grade, and Kelly Montigo in senior year. You always dive right in, whole hearted. It’s who you are Charles.” 

Charles tried to smile along with Raven, but his heart constricted at the memories of his previous infatuations, both of which had ended with Charles nursing a broken heart over a pint of ice cream after being summarily rejected both times. 

“I can’t say that I think lying to the man you love is a good idea, but I’m sorry I freaked you out Charles.” 

“You didn’t mean to, I know.” Charles squeezed Raven’s hand reassuringly. 

“I won’t say anything Charles.” Raven squeezed back. 

Charles hung his head in relief. He could feel another killer headache working its way from his temples around to the sides of his head. He couldn’t argue with Raven – he didn’t want to lie to Erik either, he didn’t want to lie to anyone. The lying, the hiding, the constant denial of his true abilities, all of it was so exhausting. Charles often wondered how long he could do it, how long it would be until he would break, or until all the lies would break him. 

“Thank you.” He said, rubbing his temples to try to ease the ache in his head. “Thank you Raven.” 

* * *

Erik could honestly say he had never had an evening quite like the one he spent in Charles and Raven’s apartment. Firstly, he’s never had a ringside seat to sibling bickering, which is exactly what Charles and Raven did all night. They’d argue, then they would tease and laugh, then they would argue again, mostly verbally with the occasional well timed slap from Raven on Charles’ arm. Secondly, he’d had to spend the whole night keeping in his anger about both Charles’ living accommodations and the secrecy about his mutation, under wraps and he was exhausted. He had about a million pointed questions he’d wanted to ask Charles, but was not interested in doing so in front of his immature, nosy little sister. And lastly, there is the food, the likes of which Erik has never before experienced and hoped to never repeat. 

“So, this Spam stuff…” Raven began, “does it taste like ass to everyone else?” 

“What is Spam, anyway? It doesn’t have pork in it, does it?” Charles’ expression turned completely horrified. “Erik is Jewish, he can’t –“ 

“I’m a terrible Jew.” Erik interjected. “Plus I find it hard to believe this is actually real food. It’s disgusting. I’m sure its just salt, artificial flavouring and some sort of jelly-like substance.” 

“Maybe the cranberry sauce will improve things.” Charles suggested brightly. 

Charles smiled broadly, obviously trying too hard to make the meal as enjoyable as possible. Both he and Raven looked at each other, grinned and immediately started spooning cranberry sauce on top of their remaining Spam. Erik stared, in horrified fascination, as Raven lifted a fork full of cranberry Spam, counted ‘1,2,3’ and stuffed the whole concoction into her mouth at the exact same moment as Charles. 

“Uggg.” Raven groaned, her words muffled by the food in her mouth. “Oh my god, it’s horrible!" 

Erik momentarily wondered if Raven would actually swallow, when she grabbed for a napkin and coughed loudly. 

“Manners Raven.” Charles replied calmly. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually eating it. It is the literally the worst thing I have ever tasted.” Raven scrunched her nose in disgust. 

“It is indeed.” Charles agreed and Erik noticed the difficulty with which he swallowed his food, his Adam’s apple bobbing with obvious effort. “I think it may have ruined cranberry sauce for me, which is absolutely tragic.” 

“I’ll make you real cranberry sauce and you will never want eat it out of a can again.” Erik said flippantly. 

Erik was so lost in thought of how to intimidate Charles’ landlord into fixing the stairs, the fire escape (which Erik could literally feel has rusty, loose screws), and get rid of that awful stench coming from the second floor, it took him a moment to register the silence around him. When he looked up, Charles was positively beaming at him.

“You’re going to make me cranberry sauce? From scratch?” 

Erik wondered, and not for the first time, how anyone was capable of saying no to Charles when he looked like he did right now- all wide blue eyes, slightly parted red lips, and an expression of giddy excitement. 

“You made me dinner, I make you dinner.” He shrugged. “It’s only fair.” 

“Well, I’m going to Kitty’s tomorrow and staying until the New Year, so I guess this dinner date is just going to be the two of you. Merry Christmas guys.” 

Raven grinned and raised her eyebrows suggestively at Charles as Erik frowned externally and rejoiced internally at the thought of not having to spend more time with Charles’ teenage sister. She was rather an unwanted third wheel. Neither Erik, nor Charles, protested Raven calling it a date. Erik had to admit that sometimes, even meddling teenagers were right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading!
> 
> If you are a lover of Spam, I apologize for presenting it as the worst food known to man. I can't remember ever having it, so it was mostly a random choice based on the fact that I think Spam looks unappealing.
> 
> I am going away on holidays with my family at the beginning of July, so I may have to stretch out my updates slightly as I don't anticipate I will get much writing done on holiday (but maybe I will - you never know!). 
> 
> The next Chapter is when things really come to a head and I plan to post that one before I leave on vacation.
> 
> Thank you for every kudo and comment. They mean so very much to me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the dinner, where revelations are made and relationships change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was hoping to finally have a chapter beta'd, but alas things did not quite work out on that front. My apologies. All mistakes are still mine.

****

**Chapter 6**

“Mama I –“

“No more lies Erik. I am not helping a son who lies to his mother.”

Erik groaned loudly and let his head drop to the kitchen counter. He and his mother seldom fought, but they had been having a circular argument about Erik hiding things for the past five minutes. Erik needed his mother to just stop pestering him and help him with Christmas dinner.

For the past 24 hours Erik had frantically run around Oxford desperately trying to find everything he would need to make Christmas dinner for Charles: turkey, potatoes, beans, carrots, the ingredients for homemade cranberry sauce and Yorkshire puddings. He’d even bought a pre-made fruit cake that he hoped he didn’t have to fake enjoying, in case Charles liked the disgusting stuff.

However, his mother had been having Christmas dinner with her neighbour Josie, a British ex-pat, for the past ten years and Erik desperately wanted her insight into how to make the best Yorkshire puddings. Erik had texted Charles several times in the last day about their dinner and so far only thing Charles had said he liked about Christmas was one measly food item.

“I am not lying mama.” Erik insisted for what felt like the fiftieth time.

“You are keeping things from me. Your mother.” She sighed. “I know you are a grown man, you have things you don’t tell your mother anymore. I don’t complain! But I have waited now – weeks - and you say nothing. So, I ask: who are you cooking for?”

Erik contemplated for a moment what might happen if he just refused to tell his mother about Charles, but it really didn’t bare thinking about.

“I have a student who works with me, Charles. He…he’s been struggling.” Erik paused, trying to figure out how to say enough and yet not too much. “He supports himself and his sister as a student and it’s hard for him to make ends meet. I bring him food at work.”

“Oh Erik. My boy. You have such a good heart. I do not understand why you hide it – from even me!”

“So you’ll help me mama?”

“Your Charles has no one to spend Christmas with? And my Erik wants to make him a real English Christmas meal.” Erik can hear the smile in his mother’s voice. “ I will help, schatz. Josie makes wonderful Yorkshire puddings – I have the recipe here…”

Erik heard his mother rummaging, likely through the drawer she had chock full of cookbooks and notepads full of hand written recipes. He wished his mother was here, he desperately wanted to spend Hanukkah with her again, it had been three long years since they had been together for the holiday. 

Erik had been saving money to buy his mother a plane ticket to England since Magda had left him over a year ago and he was almost certain he could fly her out by this summer (in first class as she so richly deserved). If all went to plan, he would be surprising her with the ticket for Mother’s Day.

“Here it is, schatz.” His mother’s voice interrupted, triumphant at her find.

“Thank you mama.” Erik smiled.

“Of course my boy. Now, you must have all ingredients at room temperature before you start…”

* * *

Christmas at the Xavier house had never been much of Norman Rockwell painting. It was always everyone sitting stiffly around a perfectly decorated Christmas tree, opening presents in a calm and orderly fashion. Presents that were bought by the staff, never by his mother, and certainly not by his step-father or step-brother. Gifts that were always impersonal, yet appropriate items: clothes, books, or an engraved set of pens. There was never music playing, or laughter, or any physical affection. Charles and Raven had always been made to say thank you to Kurt and Cain for every present they received, even though Charles clearly knew they hadn’t bought the gifts, nor did they care if Charles or Raven liked them. 

The whole ritual had been tortuous: cold at best and hostile at worst. Charles had spent many an evening on Christmas Day nursing a bruised lip, or aching stomach thanks to a beating from Cain or Kurt. Kurt generally roughed him up if he seemed ungrateful, or had disobeyed him in some way. Whereas Cain mostly enjoyed knocking Charles around for sport. Either way, it rather spoiled the spirit of Christmas in Charles’ opinion.

Charles and Raven had learned quickly after her acceptance into the family that any personal gifts had to be exchanged quietly and secretly on Christmas Eve. If Kurt or Cain knew they had received a meaningful gift, something they cherished and enjoyed, it would always either suspiciously vanish, or be very publicly broken and destroyed in front of them for maximum emotional impact. They continued their Christmas Eve exchange to this day.

Last night in fact, Raven had been very appreciative of her art supplies and Charles had been equally delighted when Raven had given him an old, ragged edition of ‘On the Origin of Species’ by Darwin.

Despite enjoying his gift exchanges with Raven, Charles had never been able to warm up to Christmas, or any family centred holiday, since leaving his former home. Raven enjoyed the trappings of the holiday season – the carols, the Christmas movies, the garish decorations currently littering their small apartment. But Charles found the season simply another reminder of how he had never been enough: not interesting enough to catch his mother’s attention, not normal enough to escape his father’s experimentation, not tough enough to avoid Cain’s fists, and not smart enough, or old enough, to prevent Kurt Marko from taking control of both his father’s company and his widow.

When Raven had said Kitty Pryde had invited her to stay for the holidays to work on a school project ( _‘We have to raise a robot baby together, Charles. And guess what, we’re the only lesbian couple in the class!’_ ), Charles had been thankful to have time alone to wallow in his own self-pity. Raven hated when he got too maudlin.  
He had planned on sitting by himself, listening to the Queen’s address on the BBC and drowning some of his sorrows by drinking the last of the good whisky he had hidden in the apartment.

Instead, he found himself clutching a box of Christmas crackers and an unopened bottle of decent (but not too expensive) wine, and standing on Erik’s doorstep, wondering for the thousandth time how it was that he was even here. How was it possible that he was having Christmas dinner with Erik Lehnsherr at his home, on what was definitely not a ‘date’, but also seemed decidedly ‘date-like’? Did Erik think this was a date? Did Charles look okay in his baggy khaki pants and comfy cozy blue cardigan? Should he have tried to wear something Raven would have picked out for him? Why was he even thinking about his clothes?

Best to stop overthinking things.

Charles looked hard at the door for one more moment, then raised his hand and knocked.

* * *

Erik wondered why he had been worried at all. Minutes before Charles had arrived, Erik had been standing in his living room anxiously contemplating whether his undecorated house was really inviting enough for Christmas dinner. He didn’t even have Christmas carols to play (not that he couldn’t have found a playlist online, but the thought of having to hear the same songs that had accosted his ears as he was doing his last minute shopping yesterday made him cringe).

However, seated across from Charles now, Erik felt rather smug. He had made Charles quite a few meals that they had shared in his office, but he had never seen him devour as much food as quickly and happily as he had tonight. And the sounds of pleasure Charles made every time he bit into a Yorkshire were almost enough to send shivers down Erik’s spine.

“These are incredible Erik.” Charles said as he munched away on what must have been his fifth Yorkshire pudding of the evening. “I never thought I would have Yorkshires better than Lily’s, but these are divine.”

“Lily is your mother?”

“Dear heavens, no!” Charles exclaimed. “I’m quite sure my mother never learned to boil water for tea. Lily was our cook.”

Erik glanced at Charles quickly as he ate his last bite of turkey and gravy. He wasn’t looking back at Erik, or even at his food. Charles’ eyes were fixed on some random spot slightly to Erik’s left and he appeared completely lost – as if he had been transported back to another time and place.

“Lily was the only cook we ever had, my whole life. She knew I loved Yorkshires and even though they aren’t traditionally made with Christmas turkey, she’d always make them anyway.” Charles’ expression turned wistful. “She liked to spoil me. She used to say my father had loved Yorkshires too, but I can’t really remember.”

Charles paused to eat his last piece of Yorkshire pudding. Erik couldn’t help but stare as Charles closed his eyes and hummed in satisfaction.

Erik felt he was sitting on the edge of his seat in anticipation of what would happen next. Part of him desperately wanted to make his way around the table and kiss Charles senseless for eating every single meal Erik had ever made him with such erotic pleasure. Erik had never in his life met someone who could turn a simple meal into an unintended seduction the way Charles could: licking spoons with flicks of his pink tongue, sucking his fingers into his mouth to get every last drop of food in his mouth, and moaning and sighing over each new bite as if he had never experienced such pleasure before in his short twenty-two years of life.

However, another part of him yearned to hear more about Charles’ past, since Charles was generally so tight lipped about his personal life. Charles had all but confirmed Erik’s suspicions that he came from a wealthy family, but the mystery remained. How had Charles ended up in England taking care of his younger, American sister? Why did he sound British, but she did not? Why did Charles no longer have money? Why did any mention of family make Charles look as if someone had punched him in the gut and told him his dog had just died?

Erik needed to know. And so he held his tongue and hoped Charles might talk.

Charles was now staring at his empty plate as if there was still food there, or he was seeing something that wasn’t there at all, still re-living whatever memory he had begun talking about earlier.

“After Kurt came along, he banned Yorkshires at the house. He said they were ‘Un-American’ and looked ‘like something poofs would eat’.” Charles voice was soft and tinged with disgust. “Lily would make them anyway and sneak them to me. Once when I was…ten, maybe eleven, Kurt caught her handing me one after Christmas dinner.”  
Charles lifted his head slowly and gazed toward the living room window, which was currently being pelted by rain.

“He was so angry, he almost b…” Charles stopped abruptly and coughed. “He threw all the Yorkshires away: what Lily had given me and the ones she still had in the kitchen. He raged and yelled and carried on about Lily’s lack of respect and my disobedience for what felt like hours. I thought he might give her the boot, just sack her right there and then on Christmas Day. Much to my surprise my mother came in and poured him a glass of whiskey, whispered something in his ear and off they went. That was the only time I saw my mother in the kitchen my entire life.”

Erik looked at Charles intently and it didn’t take that much scrutiny to see that his blue eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. His face was so pale that his freckles looked more prominent than ever. It was as if Charles was talking to a ghost who was standing in the living room and not to Erik at all.

Erik reached across the table, unable to resist the urge to touch Charles, to offer him something, some form of comfort in the midst of his distress. His laid his hand as gently as he possibly could on top on Charles’ clenched fist, but despite his caution, Charles still startled in his seat, blinking up at Erik as if he had forgotten he was even there.

“I’m sorry Charles.” Erik fumbled, not sure what to say or do to lift Charles’ spirits.

Charles shook his head.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said –“ 

Erik squeezed Charles’ hand with his own at that moment, frustrated and desperate to keep Charles from apologizing for something he had no need to apologize for. He wished he was better: better with words, better with people and emotions. Erik wasn’t one to doubt himself or engage in harsh self criticism, but at that moment he wished he was some other version of himself – someone who would know exactly what to say or do to fix this moment, to take away the pain and the hurt he could see in Charles’ eyes.

Not knowing what to do, he did the last thing he thought he should – he started talking.

“My mother always loved me with food. She loved me in others ways too, but she loved to cook for me. She knew all my favourite meals, but when I was really struggling she would pull out her best: Challah. No one makes better bread than my mother and her Challah is…” Erik stroked his finger over the back on Charles’ hand, wondering how to described what his mother’s Challah bread was to him. “Her Challah is warmth, and softness, caring and affection all wrapped up in one loaf of bread. It looks so incredible you almost don’t want to eat it and yet you can’t wait to tear it apart. My mother must have made Challah at least once a month when I first started middle school. My powers had manifested not long before that. My control was so poor and the teachers hated me. My classmates didn’t like me much either and I hated them right back. Coming home to Challah got me through.”

Wondering why he had told that story, Erik hesitantly looked Charles in the eye and found those incredible blue eyes staring intently back, head slightly tilted to the right, with a soft smile on his face. 

“I think your mother and Lily would have been fast friends.”

“Bonded over their true love of baked goods?” 

“Yes.” Charles smile had spread. “Obviously.”

Erik smiled back and realized that somehow during the last few moments, Charles had unclenched his fist and they now had their hands clasped together, fingers entwined.

“Thank you.” Charles’ words jerked Erik away from his focus on their linked hands. “This meal, inviting me over to your home, helping Raven and I in our hour of need – all of it. Thank you, my friend.”

“I…of course.”

“I don’t know what to do to make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Erik replied simply, meaning every word.

“I do.” Charles insisted. “I don’t have much but…if there’s anything, anything at all.”

Erik opened his mouth and spoke before he could think - he finally asked the question he’d been dying to ask for weeks.

“You can tell me about your mutation.”

* * *

“I feel this conversation requires some forced levity” Charles sighed, reluctantly slipping his fingers out from between Erik’s own, his heart contracting at the loss of contact.

He reached for the box of Christmas crackers, opened one and immediately put the tissue paper crown on his head. He passed the box to Erik and waited patiently until Erik did the same. They moved from the dining room table to sit on two arm chairs in Erik’s living room and Erik poured two glasses of wine and set them on the coffee table between them.

“We look idiotic.” Erik grumbled.

“That’s rather the point.” Charles insisted. 

He hazard a glance over at Erik who was looking at him with his typical intensity, face impassive, while his mind hummed with energy and anticipation. Charles picked up his glass of wine and took a nervous gulp.

“I haven’t spoken to anyone about my mutation for…quite a long time.”

“Charles nothing you can say –“

“No, Erik.” Charles interrupted firmly. “What I say tonight will not be what you want to hear. You will judge me for it. Anyone would.”

“Charles…”

“I want to tell you about my mutation. I wish –“ Charles huffed in frustration, “I wish I could tell you everything: the day I realized I was different from everyone else, how I worked so desperately to learn control, how others forced me to control myself when I could not. I’d like very much to lay it all out in the open, to share it with you.”

“But you won’t.”

Erik’s anger pushed hard at Charles’ mental barriers, and Charles felt waves of guilt wash over him.

He had thought of little else than this conversation for the past 48 hours. When Erik left his apartment two days ago, Charles had known this would happen. He had known he could not keep lying to Erik – to the man he was slowly and irrevocably falling in love with. But he had also known he could not tell the truth. 

The weight of this burden of secrecy was his to bear and he would not, he could not put Erik at risk.

Just yesterday he’d read a news alert of a telepath being detained at an American airport for trying to visit relatives in Canada for the holidays. The mutant in the article had already been in military custody for two weeks and the media had only just received information about the detainment at all. A pro-mutant media outlet reported that the telepath had been denied legal representation and had been locked in isolation due to being a ‘threat to national security’. Given Charles’ abilities, he felt he could expect worse treatment at the hands of the government should he ever be caught.

“I…” Charles hesitated knowing he had to tell Erik something. 

Something true, something honest. A kernel of a bigger story. Erik deserved more, but Charles had nothing more to offer.

“I shouldn’t be here.” He finally finished.

“In my apartment?” Erik asked confusion and anger clear on his face.

“No, in England.” Charles clarified quickly. “My mutation is classified amongst those on the ‘Travel Ban’ list in the United States. The UK’s laws on mutant immigrants and student visas are less clear, but suffice it to say that I would not have been allowed to enter this country if my mutation had been known for what it truly is.”

“Are you saying you lied about your mutation to get into the country?” Erik sounded incredulous.

“Yes.”

“How? How could you…How did you do it?” Erik asked in disbelief.

“My father began misrepresenting my mutation when I was a child. I manifested very young and as a scientist who did quite a bit of military sponsored research he knew my mutation was a risk – even all those years ago. He filled in documents about my mutation incorrectly from the very beginning. He falsified tests and bribed officials when he had to. I continued to maintain that ruse all my life.”

Charles felt an odd mix of relief, terror and shame as he admitted his deception to Erik. Erik looked at him with narrowed eyes and such focus, that Charles wondered what he could possibly be thinking, but refused to give into the temptation to look and see for himself.

“Does anybody know? Your true ability?”

“Oh.” Charles’ brows shoot up, surprised by Erik’s question. “Yes, my father did, of course. But now, only Raven knows.”

And technically Hank knew as well, on a theoretical level, although he had never seen Charles use his mutation in any capacity, Hank had run several experiments on Charles for his research and was aware that Charles was an omega level mutant – which was not reflected in any of Charles medical or mutant registration documentation.

“What is the lie then.” Erik pushed. “You can tell me that. What does the government, what does everyone think your mutation is?”

“My documentation says that I am a low level empath.”

Erik leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Charles watched as his sudden movement caused his tissue crown to go askew. 

Driven by a need to do something – to somehow repair what damage he had done to his fledging relationship with the man across from him – Charles stood up and walked slowly over to Erik. He reached out and gently readjusted the paper crown until it was perfectly balanced on Erik’s head.

When he was done, he stepped back and sat on the coffee table. He clenched and unclenched his fist several times, before he reached out to touch Erik’s knee and met his eyes once more.

“You…I…you have done so much for me, shown me such kindness. I want you to know: _I want to tell you._ I want you to know who am I.”

“Then do it. Tell me.” Erik’s voice growled, rough with emotion. He leaned forward, bringing his face to within inches of Charles’ own. 

“I can’t.” Charles whispered, voice cracking.

“You can Charles. You can trust me. I would never betray you.” There was a note of desperation in Erik’s voice, something that Charles had never heard before. “Trust me.”

“I do. Of course I trust you Erik.” Charles gripped Erik’s knee tighter as his emotions grew turbulent and pushed against his shields. “You are such a good man…”

“I am not a good man.” Erik was a rough whisper as he cupped Charles’ cheek in his left hand. “Would a good man do this?”

* * *

Erik could not remember a time he felt more overwhelmed and out of control from pure desperation. He could feel the metal cutlery vibrating on the dining room table as he cupped Charles’ face in his hand. He could feel the shiver than ran through Charles’ body as he trembled at Erik’s touch. And most of all he could feel all his resolve, all his good intentions to not engage in a romantic relationship with a student under his employ, just melt away.

There had been too many confessions. Too many exchanges of personal details. Too many light, casual touches. Too much sorrow and longing. Erik couldn’t take it one moment longer. If he didn’t kiss Charles this instant all of his cutlery was going to melt into a puddle of liquefied metal.

So he touched his lips softly against Charles’ impossible red mouth. 

At first, all he felt was the plush softness of Charles’ plump lower lip brushing against his own and the heat of Charles’ breath against his cheek. But then Charles moaned, a deep guttural moan that sounded as if it had escaped out of the younger man after years of harsh denial and Erik completely lost all semblance of control.

He surged forward, clutching at Charles’ bicep with his right hand, as his left curled around from Charles’ cheek into his hair, effectively pulling Charles closer as Erik kissed him fiercely.

Erik felt Charles’ fingers dig into his knee and relished the feeling. He happily devoured every whimper and sigh that tumbled out of Charles’ mouth as he kissed him again and again.

Erik wasn’t happy that Charles had kept his mutation a secret. But even he couldn’t fail to see how pained Charles had been during their conversation. Charles had kept his secret, but it had hurt him. And Erik wanted to take the hurt away. He wanted to stay in this moment, as his tongue slid into Charles’ mouth and was eagerly welcomed in, forever.

Maybe that was why it took Erik several moments before he realized that while Charles kissed him – incredibly enthusiastically – he could also hear Charles’ voice as it chanted his name over and over: _‘Erik, Erik, Erik’._ And it took another second before it sunk in that those two things happening simultaneously were an impossibility.

Erik jerked back and stared at Charles as his astonishment turned into horror.

“You’re a telepath.” He growled out between clenched teeth.

Charles looked dazed, his lips swollen and pupils blown. He said nothing: no confirmation, no denial.

Erik pushed himself back swiftly, the desire to get away as far away from Charles overwhelming every part of him, and practically ran into the kitchen. He packed up a multitude of containers in silence, mind blank with shock. He walked out of the kitchen to find Charles standing with his coat and boots on, haunted look in his eye, by the front door.

“You need to leave.” Erik said as clearly and calmly as he could.

He held out a bag full of leftovers and dropped it at Charles’ feet, overcome with a sudden inability to get any closer to the young man than absolutely necessary.  
Charles looked down at the bag, momentarily frozen in place. Erik watched as he slowly reached down, hand shaking, and picked up the handle.

Erik opened the door with a flick of his wrist and stayed rooted on the spot, waiting for Charles to leave. He wanted to go back in time and re-write the last 10 minutes. He wanted to say something, to explain his reaction somehow. But all Erik could do was remember a voice echoing in his mind and he felt chilled in the very bone at the realization his mind had been violated…again.

The silence between him and Charles stretched, until it was thin and taunt and tearing at the edges. Finally, Charles turned and left without a word.  
Erik slammed the door closed behind him and fled to the bathroom. On his knees, hovered over the toilet, he threw up the entire contents of Christmas dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Erik. Poor Charles. I promise things will get better...eventually.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that their is some homophobic language in this chapter (there was in the last one too- sorry I forgot the warning). The language is used in memories from the past, not by the characters in this story themselves. I apologize if this offends anyone.
> 
> Also thank you to my betas who helped make this chapter better and more coherent - I very much appreciate your insights!
> 
> Any and all remaining mistakes are my own.

****

**Chapter 7**

Erik wiped down the kitchen counter again and again. And one last time to get into all the corners. He leaned back and stared blankly at the surface, slightly light headed from the fumes wafting his way: everything looked spotless, but he remained unsatisfied. Nothing had been satisfying these past few days.

Erik’s nights had been restless, full of nightmarish dreams. Some of them involved Charles: they would start off innocently enough, but in the end things always turned sour and Charles would invade Erik’s mind, controlling him, bringing Erik’s worst and most painful memories to back life to horrifying detail. 

But worse than the dreams with Charles, were the memories - memories Erik had long kept buried: of his time after high school, his first year of college, his first time away from home, and the first time he’d joined a mutant rights organization. It was also when he had met Emma Frost and Sebastian Shaw– two mutants he would now give almost anything to forget.

Sebastian was the head of the Mutant Rights Coalition on campus. Emma was a friend of a friend – a girlfriend of a friend really. She had quickly caught Sebastian’s eye and they had become the epitome of a power couple.

Erik never much cared for her, she lived up to her name with a very cool, unaffected veneer that neatly covered up a woman who cared deeply about appearances and to manipulate people and situations to her advantage. Erik respected her ruthlessness, but he didn’t like her. And he hated every time she used her mutation.

Emma was a telepath with no moral compunction about invading the minds of others. She was not subtle, or neat – she just barged right in whenever she wanted taking whatever she wanted and then leaving you breathless and dizzy. Paired with Sebastian, she was an absolute menace.

Not that Erik had realized that at first. No at first he’d been drawn in by Sebastian’s charms, by his speeches about mutant rights, mutant power, and mutant brotherhood. For the majority of his freshman year, Erik had been a devoted member of the MRC: he attended rallies and protests, and wrote angry editorials to the student newspaper about the blatant mutant discrimination on campus. And he revelled in the praise he received from Sebastian for his efforts.

In retrospect, Erik was astonished at how quickly everything had fallen apart.

Erik had arrived at the latest MRC meeting in about as good a mood as was possible. His mother had flown out to see him (from New York all the way to Stanford) to celebrate Purim. She had cooked him his favourite meals, done his laundry, taken him to the closest Synagogue, and generally fussed over him in every way, as all mothers do when their children move across the country. Erik had loved every minute of it- not that he would ever admit that fact to anyone but his mother.

Sebastian was ranting that night, which was not a surprise. He often ranted. Erik honestly stopped listening pretty early on, lost in happy contemplation of his freezer, which was currently stocked full of his mother’s cooking.

Then a voice, full of arrogant authority, interrupted him.

“You agreed with me, right Erik?”

Erik realized in that moment that the entire room was watching him avidly. And not just that, but the air in the room was charged with tension, many MRC members were standing, shifting from one foot to another and glaring alternately at Sebastian and Erik.

“If we are going to make this world our own, we need to cut connections with all humans, is not that not right Erik?”

Erik frowned, looked Sebastian right in the eye and said: “I really wasn’t listening Sebastian, I was thinking about my mother’s pot roast.”

The amused reaction from the crowd was heartening, but Sebastian’s cold, emotionless expression was not.

“You want to stay connected to your weak, de-evolved family because of a pot roast?” Sebastian sneered.

Erik had listened to a lot of rants form Sebastian about mutant superiority, but given his recent visit with his mother today’s outburst didn’t sit well. Erik could admit that he had been wilfully blind to Sebastian’s prejudice against humans before - having someone praise his mutation and his abilities had been so new and unexpected – and it had been easy to skim past some of Sebastian’s more extreme viewpoints. And frankly, Sebastian was usually better at sugar coating his talking points with more ‘mutant brotherhood’ and less ‘down with all humans’.

Today he decided enough was enough. It was time, despite his own apprehensions and poor experiences with humans, to separate himself from Sebastian’s rhetoric. Erik stood up slowly to his full height, shoulders back, chin jutted out and looked pointedly down at Sebastian.

“I would never abandon my mother Sebastian. She loves me. Not all mutants are fortunate enough to come from families that accept them – my mother accepts my mutation in the same way she accepts I have grey eyes - she loves it because it’s a part of who I am. I’m lucky. I know that.”

He looked around the room to see many members of the MRC nodding along.

“Lots of young mutants need better support when they are rejected by their families. The MRC should be focused on issues like improving social services for mutants when they first manifest – not on brainwashing mutants into hating the humans who do accept them. Are you honestly suggesting we just stop interacting with any humans, ever?”

“They’re disposable.” Sebastian declared, not giving an inch.

“That’s my mother you’re talking about.” Erik growled, taking another step closer to Sebastian. “And she is not disposable. Should humans who mistreat and discriminate against mutants to brought to justice – yes! Should we be fighting for our rights – yes! Should we be working to protect each other – yes! But I’m not going around saying I wish all humans were eradicated – last time I checked we’re not a terrorist organization.”

Sebastian had practically lost his mind after that, raging and sputtering. Erik felt completely done with the man he had once admired and had hastily exited the room, followed by the majority of the MRC members. 

Erik had effectively split the MRC into two factions that night, though he certainly hadn’t planned for such an outcome. Sebastian never let him forget his betrayal. And Emma Frost was often his chosen weapon for revenge.

It had begun with little pranks, almost assuming things really when you looked back on them, like a joke between frat boys (not the kind of humour Erik enjoyed, but mostly harmless). Emma loved to enter his mind and manipulate him into thinking he was walking around campus naked – which had been like a waking nightmare until Erik was able to calm himself enough to say ‘fuck it’, he had nothing to be ashamed of, and keep walking.

She’s once kept him perfectly still, unable to move during a class they shared. Erik had fought and struggled for the full two hours of the lecture to no effect, before she finally released him.

Sebastian mostly worked in the background, bad mouthing Erik to any mutant who would listen and at least half of the faculty. He’d had three separate conversation with TA’s and professors inquiring about his mutation and gently ‘reminding’ him he was not allowed to use his mutation on campus in any way that would give him an advantage over other students, or put anyone in harms way. 

But the worst punishment for his betrayal came during one of his final exams that year. It was an introductory mathematics course that Erik was quite sure he could have aced in his sleep. However, Emma entered his mind during his final, and made him relive his memories of his father’s death from a grotesque workplace accident at the metal sheeting plant where he worked. Erik had been at his father’s plant that day as his mother had been unable to find a babysitter, so he’d hidden in the corner, playing with toy cars and browsing through books. 

The intensity of the memories has been incredible: the smell of the smoke, the metallic tang in the air, the deep red of the blood, and the screams of his father. All of it had come back in horrid detail. Erik had broken down during the exam, tears streaming down his face, unable to breath from a full blown panic attack, until he collapsed beside his desk and been carted off to the college medical centre. 

As if the public breakdown had not been humiliating and traumatizing enough, Erik barely passed his math course thanks to further interference from Emma and Sebastian to prevent him from being able to re-sit the exam.

That had been the final straw for Erik. He’d stormed off to Sebastian’s apartment to confront him about everything – all the ridiculous pranks, the intimidation, the fraction of the MRA, all of it. He had been sure that the conversation would be heated, that they might even struggle not to come to blows, but he had not anticipated he would end up in the ER. He’s woken up in a hospital bed three days later with no idea how he’d got there. All he did know, was that his mother was sitting beside him looking drawn and pale and like she might pass out from exhaustion any moment.

After two weeks of recovery form his injuries (most of them internal), Erik and his mother had flown home to New York. After one night of giant confessions and arguments about the whole of Erik’s first year away and the ‘the incident’ in general, Erik and his mother had never spoken of Stanford again. Erik transferred from Stanford to MIT the next year and never looked back.

Until now. Until Charles had been inside his head.

* * *

Raven skipped up the stairs, feeling full of post-Christmas happiness. Kitty Pryde was one cool chick: she had a naughty side that Raven found hilarious, whether it was sneaking through walls to steal more Christmas goodies, or her collection of pornos she’d stolen from her brother’s room – Kitty knew how to have fun. Raven wasn’t sure she’d had a better Christmas – ever.

Raven whistled as she opened the door to the top floor apartment and then stopped dead in her tracks.

There were…things every where: papers scattered around the living room, books stacked so high they were falling off the couch, dishes littered the kitchen counters (as did several boxes of cereal and what Raven sincerely hoped were empty milk cartons), and somehow, there were various articles of clothing hanging over absolutely everything. It looked like it had somehow rained clothes in the apartment.

Charles sat in the middle of the chaos, on the floor, leaning back against their rattiest lounge chair, eating Fruit Loops directly out of the box and staring intently at his computer, which appeared to be playing some sort of romantic comedy.

“What is going on Charles?”

“Hmm.” Charles turned slowly and Raven caught sight of a mostly empty bottle in his hand that had previously been hidden by the cereal box.

“Oh hello Raven. Join me, join me.” Charles motion to the floor beside him. “I am watching a masterpiece of modern cinema – Legally Blonde.”

“What are you drinking Charles?” She demanded, her worry spiked at the hazy look in Charles’ eyes.

“Peach schnapps.” Charles replied smiling. “Mrs. Brown gave it to me, along with her collection of Reese Witherspoon movies. She said Reese is the Queen of the romantic comedy, much better than Katherine Heigel apparently.”

“You went to see Mrs. Brown?”

Mrs. Brown was their downstairs neighbour: she had a hoarding problem and about a dozen cats. Whenever you climbed the stairs to the top floor, you could smell the cat urine and stench of rotting…something… emanating from her apartment. Raven could not fathom why Charles would have voluntarily gone to see her.

“Yes, yes. I had to get rid of some food.” He frowned, brow furrowed. “Thought she’d like it – she doesn’t have any family you know? She gets quite lonely over the holidays. Her son died a few years ago in a tragic car accident – drunk driver, and her daughter moved to Mumbai.”

“Did she tell you all that?”

“Oh, no. I just…saw.” Charles gestured vaguely toward his head.

Charles turned back to his computer, absently running his finger along the side of his bottle of schnapps as he mumbled something about sad holidays and lonely people, and then started humming ‘Eleanor Rigby’.

“Give me the bottle Charles.” Raven demanded, hand out stretched.

“No.” Charles hugged the bottle to his chest and eyed Raven suspiciously, like a child guarding his favourite toy.

Raven huffed out a sigh, put her hands on her hips and glared down at her drunken, petulant brother.

“Charles, do you remember what happened when you went to that frat party at Harvard? Hmmm?” Raven watched as Charles ducked his head down, avoiding her gaze. “Because I do. I’m sure our entire apartment building remembers, because you got so hammered you projected a very vivid dream about Stephen Fry and Alex Trebek to the whole building.”

Raven could still recall how embarrassed Charles had been about the whole incident. She’d barged into his room at 5am to wake him up, since his horrid sex dream had certainly woken her up, and Charles had spent about 30 minutes apologizing. _‘I’m so very sorry Raven’, ‘It seems that alcohol and telepathy don’t mix’, ‘I don’t really want to sleep with those gentlemen, I swear. I just really love quiz shows’_.

The touch of a smooth surface against her leg caused Raven to glance down. Charles held out the bottle of schnapps toward her with a chastised look on his face. 

After she hid the schnapps in the kitchen (in one of the top cupboards that Charles couldn’t reach without a stool), Raven ambled back into the room and plopped down beside her brother.

“What happened Charles? You haven’t had more than a glass of wine with dinner in ages.”

Raven hoped that Charles would answer, but was unsurprised when she was met with silence. Christmas was not Charles’ favourite time of year, the opposite in fact. Charles tried his best to keep his sorrow to himself, but Raven knew Charles too well for him to truly hide his depression from her. Given how hellish Kurt and Cain had made the holidays back in Westchester, Raven couldn’t really blame him for moping around every year for a couple weeks.

Today, was different though. She’d never come home to find Charles quite so dishevelled and distraught as he was now.

“He doesn’t want me.”

Charles spoke so softly that Raven wasn’t sure she’s heard him.

“He doesn’t want you?” She repeated

“He doesn’t want me.” Charles clarified, voice rising. “He doesn’t want this.”

Charles pointed angrily at his head and Raven could feel his frustration pulsing against the mental shields Charles had taught her to create. The anger was replaced quickly with sorrow, a vast swell of pain that Raven had to work to keep herself from falling into.

“Charles...” She reached for his hand and squeezed firmly, thankful that Charles was so good at reeling in his emotional projections after he had a moment to compose himself. 

They sat like that for some time, hands entwined, staring blankly at the chaos in the apartment. 

Raven had no idea what to say to comfort Charles. She herself had been wary of Charles telepathy since her early teens – demanding privacy and pushing Charles away, severing the incredibly close bond they had had as children. She regretted it at times now, when she wished they could still have silent conversation with each other in public, like how they used to make fun of Cain within their minds over dinner and try desperately not to laugh. But in the end, she valued her privacy too much to let Charles back into her head, though she knew it hurt Charles more than he would ever say to lose the connection they had shared.

If Erik, and she could only assume ‘he’ was Erik, had also pushed Charles away because of his telepathy, well, Raven could understand that to a certain degree. Charles’ abilities were…a bit off-putting to say the least. On the other hand, Raven could feel how incredibly devastated Charles was that he had been rejected because of his mutation once again.

“If he doesn’t want you- all of you- then he’s not good enough for you.” She finally said, hoping the words sounded sincere, even though Raven herself had misgivings about Charles’ telepathy.

Unfortunately, Charles said nothing in response. A furrowed brow and a thorough examination of his hands is his only reaction.

“So, how did a clothes tornado get into our apartment?” She asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I, ah...I was practicing…something.” Charles mumbled.

“Practicing what?”

“The…burm and surm…you know, from the movie.” 

Charles voice was distorted from the Fruit Loops he had shoved in to his mouth and Raven was completely clueless to what he could possibly have said.

“The what?”

“The bend and snap, Raven.” Charles flushed. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Raven snickered, her whole body shacking as waves of laughter took control of her body. Charles scowled at her for a few seconds, before he cracked a smile and shook his head.

“I may have been a bit drunk.” 

“May have been?” Raven chocked out through fits of laughter. “Is that how the clothes got all over the house?”

“The laundry basket was just…right there.” Charles said with a shrug. “And I needed something to bend and snap for.”

“You realize Reese didn’t fling whatever she dropped around the room, right? She held it up to her boobs in a primitive display of sexual availability to the opposite sex.”

“Yes, of course she did. But I was alone, I was drunk, and I had a very enthusiastic ‘snap’.” Charles explained.

“I think I need a demonstration for your moves.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Raven.” Charles scoffed, another blush creeping across his cheeks.

Raven who was certainly not going to take no for an answer, stood up and held out a hand for Charles.

“Come on Charles, get up here and show me your stuff.”

“Fine.” Charles said. “But I must warn you, the only things left in the laundry basket are the unmentionables.”

They spent the next few minutes flinging clothes around with child-like glee, giggling and finally falling down together onto the sofa, where Raven wrapped her arms Charles and snuggled tightly into his chest.

“Thank you.” Charles murmured into her ears a few moments later.

“Anytime Charles, anytime.”

* * *

Charles sunk himself down to his knees, admiring the perfectly sculpted man before him. As he flicked out his tongue to lick the impressive cock in front of his face, he wrapped his telepathy around the other man’s mind and embraced every part of him: his cock within his mouth and his mind within his mutation.

He’d never felt anything as wonderful in his existence. To feel Erik in his mouth, so huge, so smooth, and to have his body twitch with every movement of Charles lips and tongue sent shivers of pleasure down Charles’ spine, straight to his own leaking erection, currently uncomfortably restricted by his pants. 

But sinking into Erik’s mind, caressing every corner of it, feeling what Erik was feeling in that moment –well that almost sent Charles right over the edge. As usually, Erik’s mind was so beautifully structured, so focused. Right now, Erik was completely focused on Charles: on how his lips stretched obscenely around Erik’s cock, the soft feeling on Charles hair in his fingers, the satisfaction he felt at finally having Charles in this position, a situation Erik had fantasied about many, many times.

In the precise moment where Charles could feel Erik building and reaching toward climax, his fingers tightening in Charles’ hair and Charles could feel his own anticipation of accepting everything Erik had to offer, of having his mouth overflow with Erik’s release, his mind turned on him.

_‘You’re dreaming’_ it said all too clearly.

Charles opened his eyes to find himself lying in his bed in his apartment, very much alone. He blinked his eyes several times trying to clear the images of his dream away, as if he could create a blank slate simply by fluttering his eyelashes.

Charles glanced at his phone on the bedside table, which read 2:34am. To be woken up from yet another dream about Erik at such as ungodly hour, after being rejected so thoroughly was just pathetic.

Charles wished, as someone who lived more within his mind than most, that he had more control over his dreams – but his telepathy had never been any help in that regard, never taking any interest in his dreams until they were well underway and already disturbing, before his mutation would allow him to interrupt and wake himself.  
Knowing he would never get back to sleep, Charles got out of bed, grabbed some clothes that he had strewn around the room and jumped from one foot to another getting some pants on.

He took a moment to rush to the bathroom, with the intent of splashing some water on his face and brushing his teeth. But he found, after those mundane tasks were complete, that he was standing stock still, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Pale face, nose splattered with freckles, deep black bags under his eyes from too little sleep and too many migraines. Boyishly smooth chest, collar bone still too prominent, though not as sickly thin as he had been before Erik started bringing him meals. And his mutation – the mutation everyone is his life simply could not accept.

_“Your mouth looks like a girl’s Charlie,” Cain taunted as he cornered Charles in the library. “Maybe if I break your nose again it’ll help you look like a boy.”_

_“You’re never going to amount to anything you little freak!” Kurt voice rang loudly in Charles’ ears despite the pillow engulfing his head that was currently muffling his cries of pain that escaped with each blow Kurt landed on his back. “You might be able to cheat your way through life with that mutation of yours, but no one will ever respect a weak little fairy boy like you.”_

_“Get out of my head Charles! Those thoughts are just for me – not you!” A pre-teen Raven screamed at him while hiding her head in her hands._

_“Charles, it’s unseemly to be so…strange. Never do that again.” A baffled nine-year- old Charles stared up at his mother, confused that he had met her unspoken need for a drink, only to be reprimanded and dismissed._

_“You must never show anyone what you can do Charles. Do you understand?” Looking up into his father’s blue eyes and seeing nothing but fear as he discovered the true nature of his son’s mutation._

Was it any wonder Erik didn’t want him?

Charles shook himself sharply -he needed to get himself out of this miserable headspace. He needed to get Erik and all of these awful memories out of his head.

He needed to get to the lab.

* * *

Hank prided himself on spending more time at the Oxford genetics laboratory than any other doctoral student. He was dedicated to his research, had multiple projects on the go and had managed to get his class schedule down to the bare minimum (mostly to avoid interacting with students, but also to get more research done).

So when he walked into the lab at 7am on the Monday morning after Christmas break, he was not expected to find Charles in the room. Not only was he there, but given the state of the lab equipment he had been there for some time.

Hank was just about to speak, when he noticed that the bit of Charles head he could see over the top of the big comfy arm chair they had hauled into the lab last year, was tilted slightly to the side. 

Hank walked silently around the chair, to find Charles fast asleep, neck crooked to the right, feet curled tightly into his body, armed wrapped around himself as if to hold himself perfectly still so he didn’t fall out of the chair in his sleep.

Hank let out a deep breath and stopped to think about how he should proceed. He could leave Charles as he was - he was obviously tired and must have been working in the lab into the wee hours of the night, or he could wake him up – Hank wanted to know what Charles had been doing and what the results had been, plus Charles looked awfully awkward in the chair. 

“You’re thinking very loudly Hank.” Charles soft, sleep filled voice interrupted Hank’s internal dilemma.

“Sorry Charles. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No, of course not.” Charles rubbed his head and he sat up straight in the chair. “Generally I’m quite incoherent until at least 8 o’clock.”

“Well…” 

“No need to feel guilty Hank, I said it not you. And it’s only the truth.” Charles stood and began to stretch, reaching his arms above his head and leaning side to side. “I’m sorry to have broken your first-to-the-lab streak, but the break was terribly trying and I needed to clear my head.”

Hank scrutinized Charles closely, noting the dark bags under his eyes, the lank look of his hair, and the paleness of his skin. It looked very much like Charles was failing to take care of himself - again. Which troubled Hank greatly – he’d seemed to have put on a bit of weight before the holidays and Hank had been pleased to see the colour return to his cheeks. But now he looked vulnerable. As a psionic, Charles was at risk of suffering a psionic overload if he did not eat and rest properly. As an omega level telepath, Charles required far more calories than one might ever expect, as his mutation required an amount of fuel that his compact frame did nothing to hint at.

“When was the last time you ate a good meal?” Hank inquired.

“Good meal you say? That means a meal with all the food groups and such, yes?” Charles smiled at him, but Hank refused to take any of this as a joke and did not so much as blink in return. “It’s been a while. I spent a few days living off sugary cereal.”

“Let’s go to the commons then – I’ll buy you breakfast.” 

Hank frowned deeply as Charles began to shake his head.

“I can’t –“

“A full English breakfast Charles. I’ll get you a full English.” Hank bargained on Charles’ love of all things British. 

“I’m hungry too.” He lied, though why he even tried this tactic was really beyond his comprehension. Charles would see right through it instantly.

“You are a terrible liar, telepathy or no I’m sure I could see right through you.” Charles sighed. “But I will take your up on your offer. I need to pick your brain about something.”

Half an hour later, with trays full of eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes, toast, and in Charles’ case three different cups of tea, Hank guided them both toward an empty table in the crowded dining hall.

“So, what did you need to pick my brain about?” Hank asked.

Charles held up one finger as he shovelled a piece of toast covered with scrambled eggs and tomatoes into his mouth. Hank realized then just how starved Charles must have been and was relieved he had managed to convince him to come down for breakfast. Hank watched as Charles practically gulped down a cup of tea before he finally spoke.

“What do you know about shielding? Have you done any research or read any studies about it specifically?”

“I…well, I have read about it extensively, yes. But I imagine you have more practical knowledge than I do.” 

Hank was puzzled, as a psionic Charles was the expert on this subject, not him.

“Yes, well, I suppose.” Charles acknowledged. “I’m looking for alternate sources.”

Hank remained quiet, slowly chewing his food, as he watched Charles continue to inhale his meal like a man who had just found an oasis in the desert.

“The break was…edifying.” Charles said as he paused to drink more tea. “I need more control over my…abilities. Sometimes things get away from me and I simply cannot let that happen.”

Hank knew what Charles was saying – he was worried about detection. Which led Hank to start a conversation he had had with Charles previously. Maybe today the results would be different.

“If you want greater control, if you want to avoid…detection,” Hank whispered, “then, Charles please, try my latest update –“

“No.” Charles said firmly, he tone cold and uninviting.

“Charles, suppressants are not what they were twenty years ago!” Hank pushed, hoping to finally get through to his friend.

“I am well aware of all the advancements Hank.” 

Charles’ voice had taken on that tone of clear authority, the one where he sounded exactly like a young man who had grown up surrounded by wealth and privilege and was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it, without any argument from anyone else. Hank hated that tone: it made Charles sound almost identical to Professor Clarke.

Charles features immediately softened, as Hank squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’m sorry my friend. But I cannot take suppressants. I know it would address some of my issues, but I can’t do it. To be without my mutation, to go back to those times in my past, I can’t bare it Hank. I can’t.”

Charles lifted his last cup of tea with his hand shaking, before he clutched it tightly in two hands to bring it more steadily up to his lips.

“I have a few articles I could send your way. They’re about non-psionic shielding. Mostly mutants who have physical mutations that seem to naturally block psionic invasion – there are some interesting theories and case studies. I’m not sure if it will help…”

“It sounds fascinating Hank. I would greatly appreciate it if you would e-mail them my way. Thank you.”

“Are you ready to get back to the lab? Let me in on what you were working on last night?”

“Of course.” Charles brightened immediately. “You would not believe the odd ideas that come to one’s mind when you’re alone in the lab at 3 in the morning!”

Hank relaxed after that, talking about lab work, research and science always calmed his mind. They worked studiously side by side in the lab, frowning over slides and sample test results, entering results into the computer and squabbling over the implications of their latest findings.

Charles didn’t mention a thing about his holidays or shielding for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I can say with confidence that I will need longer than a week to get the next update posted. My apologies.
> 
> Since I've been on vacation editing my work has gone well, but writing new stuff has been slow. I really like to stay a couple chapters ahead of what I'm posting, so I'm going to need a bit longer to stay ahead I think (unless I have a great burst of creativity and productivity).
> 
> I also have other things I'm writing that have actual deadlines and have to take precedence this month.
> 
> My goal will be to post at least 2 more chapters this month - I can't promise any more than that.
> 
> Thank you for understanding.
> 
> And thank you so much for reading, commenting and leaving kudos. You guys are amazing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik finally see each other again after the disaster that was Christmas dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to both my betas once again for helping me with this chapter. They are both wonderful!
> 
> Any mistakes that remain are my own.

**Chapter 8**

The first day of open office hours at the Mutant Counselling Office after the Christmas break had been a never-ending parade of mutants in and out the door. When Erik had arrived at his office at 8am, there had already been three students standing outside his door, waiting.

So far today he had heard about seven horrible family dinners, two break-ups, one student who had been kicked out of his apartment for a holiday party gone wrong, one student who had had the entire contents of his apartment stolen – including all his Christmas presents. He had also spoken to three more graduate students who wanted to file complaints against Professor Clarke.

The day had been so busy in fact, that Erik had had little time to say, or even look at Charles. It had been all business, as Charles screened students and lead them into Erik’s office. At times he stopped in quickly to set out a tray with tea or water. During the glimpses Erik had of Charles sitting at his desk when each student left his office, he looked just as frazzled as Erik felt at the sudden onslaught of students. If mid-December had been slow and quiet, early January was proving to be the opposite.

Erik was partly glad and partly disturbed by the whole thing. He was his services were needed, but annoyed he had to talk to so many students in such a short amount of time. He was glad to have a distraction from his ‘Charles problem’ and yet he was frustrated that there were so many student around that he couldn’t try to resolve said problem. He was glad Charles had eaten a muffin during his shift, and positively pissed off that Hank McCoy, Charles’ gangly research partner had been the one to feed him when he’d stopped by to drop off a snack for Charles, not Erik.

Erik had intended to talk to Charles as soon as he saw him at the office. No, Erik had planned to do more than just talk – he had planned to apologize.

Now, sitting in his office, close to the end of Charles’ shift, Erik reminisced about his conversation with his mother on Sunday, and tried to work out how to express himself to Charles before he left.

_“You look…unwell schatz. What is the matter?” His mother had asked almost immediately during their Sunday Skype call._

_“I’m fine Momma.”_

_“Tsk. No lying to your mother.” His mother shook her finger at him through the screen. “You tell me what is wrong.”_

_Erik wasn’t sure where to start: with Charles being a telepath, with how having Charles in his mind had brought up memories of Emma Frost (someone his mother disliked almost as much as Erik did), how he had kissed Charles, how he wanted to do much more than kiss Charles. Or, because this was the real issue, how he didn’t know what to do now that he had reacted so horribly to Charles’ mutation, which was incredibly hypocritical of someone who spent most of his time promoting mutant rights. It was all a jumbled mess._

_“I hurt someone Momma.”_

_“Oh, schatz.” His mother sighed. “Not meaning to, yes? You hurt them and it hurts you too.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You made a mistake.” She confirmed._

_“Yes.” Erik rubbed his face with his hands, feeling his guilt creep up on him all over again._

_He had reacted so terribly and it hadn’t even really been about Charles at all. It had taken Erik a few days to settle himself after the telepathic incident, but once he had, it was clear he had been in the wrong. He couldn’t help that he had a poor history with telepaths, but it was unfair of him to put that blame on Charles._

_He didn’t like that Charles had invaded his mind without asking – he didn’t think he would ever be comfortable with anyone getting in his head unless he clearly consented to it first – but this had been a very isolated incident. If he looked back on the time he and Charles had spent together, it was clear Charles had never once violated Erik’s mind before. In fact, if Erik had been pressed before Christmas, he would have guessed Charles’ mutation had been a physical one he was embarrassed to show, not psionic abilities._

_“Then you make it right, Erik my boy.” His mother declared._

_“It was a big mistake Momma.” Erik hated to admit it, but he really had messed this up quite badly._

_“Still a mistake, yes? And you feel very bad, I can see. You have not looked so…distressed in some time.”_

_“I…I insulted someone. Very badly.” Erik explained vaguely. “I made assumptions – bad ones. I…it was…”_

_Erik lost the ability to speak. How could he explain to his mother about Charles? How could he possibly articulate how much the man had come to mean to him in such a short amount of time? How could he explain how terrified he had been that evening when Charles had gone from ‘Charles a fellow mutant’ to ‘Charles the telepath’._

_“You are always so sure of yourself, schatz. But you have been wrong before and you will be wrong again. You are only a man and men make mistakes.”_

_“I’m not sure I can fix this.”_

_“It will stay broken if you don’t try Erik.” His mother’s voice was firm and calm, even though it was crossing the thousands of miles over the Atlantic ocean. “You make it right and you tell me on Wednesday when we talk again how it goes. Do not wait – waiting will fester the wound. You listen to your mother now.”_

_“Yes, Momma.”_

And yet, here he was sitting in his office, having barely said a word to Charles in the last three hours. If he didn’t get up off his ass and talk to Charles now, he was going to miss his chance at trying to repair what he’d broken and then, as his mother had said, the wound would fester and grow.

Erik pushed himself up from his desk and walked purposefully toward the door.

* * *

Charles stood frozen in front of ‘The Handle Bar Café and Kitchen’ and wondered again why he had agreed to come here at all.

Had he said yes out of pure surprise that Erik had even asked? After barely looking at him or acknowledging his existence his whole shift, to have Erik stand in front of his desk and ask him out for coffee had been the pinnacle of unexpected.

Had it been the look on Erik’s face? So resolute and stoic. As if he was preparing himself for the worst possible response and was determined not to show a stitch of emotion on his face.

Or was it his eyes? Which had completely betrayed him by showing a sea of churning emotion. And Charles had known instantly that Erik cared very much how Charles would respond. 

It certainly hadn’t been anything Charles had read from Erik's thoughts, since he had been shielding and suppressing his telepathy to such an extreme that he could barely sit in a well lit room without wincing in pain from the migraine he was nursing. Such an extreme amount of shielding was physically draining and Charles knew that he would be out like a light as soon as his head hit his pillow tonight.

In the end Charles could not say why he had said yes to meeting Erik for coffee. Immediately after he’d sputtered out a ‘yes’, Erik had handed him the letter, like a scene out of Pride and Prejudice.

It was 7pm now and since he had received the letter at noon, Charles had read it in its entirety five times. 

The first reading had been huddled in a study room, absolutely shocked to find that Erik had written him a three page letter, in the tiny, scratchy cursive Erik used for all his student notations. 

As one might expect from a hand written letter, the contents had been personal: a confession of pasts wrongs, of deep-seated fears, and of harsh realizations. There was no explicit apology, but the pages contained details of Erik’s life, of his pain and his loss, that Charles was sure Erik had never shared with another soul. 

Which all lead to now: to Charles standing outside this Café, hoping he was making the right choice by walking through the front door. Hoping that the three Tylenol he had taken would have an impact on his migraine, which after having subsided in the quiet, unpopulated corners of the library, was building once again. Hoping that he had read Erik’s subtle facial cues properly and that his turbulent eyes had been looking at Charles with the same longing that Charles felt himself: a longing to start again, or at the very least to take a step back and find a new perspective.

As he walked into the Café, spotting Erik seated at a table in the corner, black sweater clinging closely to his chest, and looking achingly handsome, Charles tried his best to stay calm and composed. 

Raven always said he gave people too many chances – he was too kind, too forgiving, too malleable. Charles knew she was right, he shouldn’t have given Erik another chance after what he had done, but how do you ignore the pull of your heart?

Erik stood up as Charles approached and made to pull out a chair, but Charles waved him off, leaving Erik standing beside him as he sat down.

“Let me get you something then.” Erik offered.

“Chamomile tea if they have it. Just a touch of honey. Thank you.” 

His voice sounded stiff to his own ears and Charles could see how Erik tensed, walking away from the table to get their drinks with long strides. Feelings of guilt seeped in: he hadn't meant to make Erik feel he was holding a grudge. He was just so tired. 

Charles spent the few minutes alone engaged in breathing exercises and grounding techniques: trying to get out of his aching mind and into his body. Breath by breath he tensed and relaxed his muscles, calming his mind and easing the tension throughout his body. Hoping that these few moments of peace would keep the pain of his migraine at bay long enough to have a conversation with Erik.

“Charles?”

Erik’s voice sounded far off, almost dream-like, and Charles struggled to open his eyes and face the reality of the busy coffee shop, full of impatient patrons, stressed wait-staff, and most particularly with the intense man sitting across from him.

“My apologies. I was lost in thought for a moment.” Charles lied as smoothly as he was able.

Charles picked up the saucer of tea in front of him, holding it as it warmed his hands, and inhaled deeply, letting the light scent of chamomile wash over his senses.

“I wasn’t sure you would come.”

“I wasn’t sure I would either.” Charles admitted, glancing at Erik over the edge of his teacup through a haze of steam.

Erik shifted in the chair across from him, reaching for his cup of coffee, but then bringing his hand back to his side.

“Did you have time to read the letter?” He asked gruffly.

“Yes, I did.” Charles watched as Erik clenched and unclenched his fists, before finally picking up his cup and taking a sip of coffee. “I felt a bit like Elizabeth Bennett.”

“I’m hardly Mr. Darcy.” Erik frowned.

Charles smiled slightly. After taking a moment to drink more tea, Charles decided to dive into the heart of the matter – before his head exploded from the pain pulsing underneath his skull.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you Erik. How the other…mutant… treated you was unacceptable and wrong.”

“I don’t want your pity.” Erik cut in roughly, but then shook his head, face scrunched with concern. “The letter is an explanation, not an excuse. How I reacted…it was wrong. I…you revealed something to me, something important, something precious to you and I threw it back in your face like a complete asshole.”

“You’re not an ass Erik. You were afraid. Do you think you’re the only person afraid of what I can do? Of what people think I can do?”

Charles felt a layer of his calm exterior breaking at his words. The fear was rational, everyone was afraid of telepathic violation and he could understand that - of course he could. But the burden of fear, the burden of hiding his ability, day after day, was heavy and suffocating. Today, Charles could feel the shields cracking, both literally and figuratively, as he desperately tried to hold everything inside.

“I can do terrible things, or I could with my mutation. I could open bank vaults, I could bring down half the buildings in this city, but I don’t. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst of you Charles. You’ve never given me any reason to think of you as anything but my friend.”

Charles found his eyes were locked on Erik’s once again. The storm cloud colour of Erik’s eyes swirled, ever changing, endlessly fascinating. It had been so easy to fall for this man and he wasn’t sure it was possible to stop.

“Yes, friends.” Charles replied, taking another sip of tea. “Things certainly became very…friendly at our dinner.”

Charles had been going for something light, something he hoped was flirtatious, yet innocent. Watching Erik react to his words, seeing the flush creep up his neck and how his eyes immediately dropped to Charles mouth, his eyes flaring with something that Charles was almost sure was lust, the conversation suddenly didn’t feel innocent at all.

Overcome with the need to know, to be certain that Erik still wanted him – not just as friends, but as something more, Charles lowered his shields just slightly.

The sudden influx of thoughts struck him instantly. There was so much irritation, so much chatter that Charles had to clutch at the table to keep his seat. He worked quickly to rebuild his shields, but the pain of his migraine only intensified with each passing moment. His breaths became shallow and ragged as he fought against the swell of minds pushing at him – all their sorrow, their joy, their pain, their anger. It was all too much.

“Charles!” 

He felt a hand touching his arm and then pushing his head -that had been hanging so low it was almost resting on the table – upwards, until he found himself looking at Erik.

“Erik.” Charles heard his voice as if from a great distance and wondered how he had the strength to speak.

“Charles, what’s happening? What can I do?”

Charles found Erik’s voice was like a whisper and a shout all at once: impossible to ignore and yet difficult to hear. 

“Need to leave.” He managed to croak out. “Home…please.”

He felt Erik’s arm reach around him, supporting him so he could stand and lean against Erik. The cold air of the busy Oxford street hit Charles like a tidal wave and he staggered in Erik’s hold. He could hear random thoughts jumping out at him.

_‘Kid’s drunk out of his mind’, ‘it’s a bit early for that’, ‘ugg, get away from me freaks’._

Charles pried himself free of Erik, fumbling as he stepped over to the corner of a dark alley and threw up, body heaving in its determination to get everything out of his system.

Somehow he found himself being hauled away by Erik again, and then moments later he was seated in a car. The edge of his vision began to blur and he closed his eyes, unable to handle the speed at which the world was passing by. He thought perhaps Erik was speaking to him, but couldn’t be sure.

_‘Maybe if I open my eyes’_ he thought. Maybe then he could tell if Erik was speaking.

With what felt like the greatest effort of his life, Charles lifted his head and opened his eyes. Erik was driving a car, mostly with his powers if the lack of hands on the steering wheel was any indication. His lips were moving and although Charles still couldn’t hear the words, he thought one of them might have been his name.

He smiled weakly, hoping it might reassure Erik that everything was going to be fine. 

And then, the world went black.

* * *

Erik hoped and prayed to any higher power that might be listening that he did not get pulled over by the police.

He was currently driving using only his powers, going far above the speed limit, blowing through traffic lights, and occasionally not even looking at the road as he tried to check on Charles.

He seemed to still be breathing, but the fact that Erik was driving with a passed out Charles in his car was absolutely not good – it was downright terrifying.

Erik had half considered taking Charles to a hospital, but given his secrecy over his mutation, the fact that medical personnel were known to discriminate against mutants in general, and that Erik wasn’t sure he wouldn’t punch someone if they refused to give Charles the utmost care, Erik had settled on fulfilling Charles’ request and taking him home.

Cradling Charles carefully in his arms, he made his way up the rickety staircase, careful to watch out for the unstable stair as he went. He didn’t bother to knock when he arrived at the door, he just flicked his wrist and using his powers, unbolted the deadbolt and walked in.

He found himself confronted by a hulking presence: a man, well over 6 and a half feet tall, rippling with muscle like a bodybuilder who had just stepped off of Venice beach. Erik lurched to a halt, wondering how to proceed and also, why, this man was in the apartment, when the person in front of him shifted into Raven’s blue form.

“Oh my God, Charles!” She exclaimed, rushing over to touch her brother’s forehead, which was currently drenched with sweat.

“What did you do to him you fucking bastard!” She snarled.

“You can yell at me later.” Erik negotiated. “Right now, I need you to help me.”

Raven stepped back, but her glare did not diminish in the slightest.

“His room is this way. And you better start talking – what happened?”

Erik followed Raven down the narrow hall and into Charles' bedroom. He had only a moment to take in the room – it was small, filled to the brim with stacks of books, clothes strewn over the back of the only chair, bed unmade – before putting Charles down on the bed and within seconds being pushed right back out of the room by Raven.

“I said, what the hell did you do to my brother?” Raven accented each word with a finger pushed violently into Erik’s chest.

“I didn’t ‘do’ anything.” Erik insisted, arms crossed over his chest to prevent any more finger stabbing.

“You obviously did something!” Raven ranted. “Start talking, asshole or I’ll bring my 350 pound ‘friend’ back and haul you out of this apartment like the trash you are.”

Erik managed, by some miracle, not to roll his eyes. His desperate hope that Raven might have some idea what had happened to Charles kept him in check.

“He collapsed in a café. He was drinking tea, we were talking – nothing happened.” Erik explained. “He just suddenly swayed and hunched over the table and asked to leave. I got him to my car, he passed out and I brought him here.”

“Was he acting weird?”

Erik paused, letting his mind trace back over the evening’s events.

“He was rubbing his head more than usual. At one point I caught him in some kind of trance-like state. But he seemed fine once we started talking.”

“Migraine.” Raven said with certainty. “He hasn’t had one this bad in a couple years.”

“This has happened to him before?” Erik couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“He gets migraines all the time. He usually just comes home and sleeps them off. Passing out because of one – that hasn’t happened in a while. He must have had a really rough day.”

Raven was now looking at the door to her brother’s room, her anger at Erik apparently cooling off. Erik was just about to ask more about Charles and his migraines and what he could do, when Raven whirled around to face him once more.

“I’m going to go in there and check on him.” Raven hissed, finger pointed at Erik once more. “And when I get out, I expect you to be long gone. Got it.”

Erik looked down at Raven, refusing to respond in any way. Deciding the best way to appease her would be to move away, he took a step backwards and headed toward the living room, peaking over his shoulder as Raven tip toed into Charles’ room.

He barely got a glimpse of Charles before Raven closed the door again, but seeing the brief rise and fall of his chest, his chestnut hair clinging to his forehead, and his body lying relaxed on the bed was reassurance enough – for now.

* * *

Raven let her head fall back against Charles’ door, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. ‘What a shit show’, she thought.

She’d told Charles he should just cut Erik out of his life. Sure he still needed the job and he had to be professional, but this was one time where Charles’ habit of giving people second and third (and sometimes even more) chances was not an option. Apparently Charles had felt differently. So differently, he hadn’t even mentioned he was meeting Erik tonight when he had texted her. _‘Going to be late at the lab’_ is what he had said - fucking liar.

Pushing herself away from the door, Raven crept over to the bed and gently started taking off Charles’ black loafers. Charles didn’t so much as stir as she turned him over to take off his jacket. His face was so pale, with his freckles standing out in stark contrast to his clammy skin.

Raven hadn’t seen Charles this unwell since they had arrived in England and he had collapsed onto a lumpy bed in a truly grungy motel room after their journey from New York to London. The trip had been gruelling, with airports full of people, multiple occasions of deception concerning Charles’ mutation, and very little rest or proper nutrition. When it was over, Charles had made it to the apartment, vomited in the dingy bathroom, and then passed out in bed and slept for 36 hours straight.

Raven sighed, pushing Charles damp hair off his forehead.

“What have you been doing to yourself, Charles?” She whispered.

Raven liked to think, and to tease Charles about the fact that he couldn’t keep secrets from her. But that wasn’t really true at all. He had kept the beatings from Cain secret, he had kept his plans to run away from home a secret until he was literally climbing out the window with her, and somehow, though he’d never kept his love life secret before, he had kept his crush on Erik Lehnsherr a secret too.

Raven liked to complain that Charles didn’t understand her, especially now that she had kicked him out of her head, but it was fast becoming clear that she might not know Charles as well as she thought either.

* * *

Erik hadn’t left. He’d never had any intention of leaving. When Charles was awake and speaking coherent, full sentences and eating good nutritious food, then, maybe, he’d leave.

He heard a door open and close behind him and knew Raven would likely see him soon, but he didn’t stop what he was doing, sure in the knowledge that there was more than enough metal in the apartment to hold back Raven’s 350 pound threat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” a voice screeched behind him.

“Making up the couch.”

“Making up the couch…” Raven sputtered. “Why are you even still here?”

“Don’t want to leave yet.”

“You…you are the most ridiculous, frustrating person I have ever met. I will bring out the ex-wrestler neighbour from earlier –“

Erik turned to face Raven, whose cheeks were flushed, hands shaking at her sides.

“I am going to stay.” He said calmly. “I am going to sleep on your couch. And when Charles has recovered enough that I am satisfied, I will go.”

Raven stared at him, mouth half open for several moments. Erik rolled his eyes and went back to tucking sheets under the couch cushions. Out of the corner of his eye he tracked Raven as she entered the living room and sat in the high back chair across from him.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Charles today, but as far as I’m concerned you’re still the asshole who kicked him out after Christmas dinner.”

Erik said nothing. He was not about to explain his relationship with Charles to his kid sister. 

“You know, right now apart from the fact that you are physically gorgeous, I do not get what Charles sees in you at all.”

“If you think insulting me is going to get me to leave, you’re mistaken.”

“Are you…are you actually serious about Charles? Do you care about him?” Raven prodded.

Erik gave her his best glare and again, said nothing.

“Asshole.” Raven muttered. “Listen, this, whatever it is that you have going on with Charles, this is not something he does alright?”

Erik watched Raven intently as she talked, her hands waving around to make her point, her forehead creased with concentration.

“He doesn’t do relationships you know?”

“Never?” Erik couldn’t stop himself from asking, honestly shocked by the idea that Charles had not had a string of besotted men or women in his life prior to meeting Erik.

“So, Charles is a big nerd, right? And since he was about twelve, he’s had two priorities in life: me and school. He hasn’t had a relationship since he was sixteen and finishing high school.”

“Charles would be okay with you telling me this?”

Because Erik could not imagine a world where a man would be happy to know his sister was telling other people about his love life, or lack thereof.

“No, probably not.” Raven shrugged. “But you need to know. You need to understand what you’re getting into.”

Erik once again found himself looking at Raven, saying nothing and waiting for her to divulge more information. He planned to tuck away each little tidbit about Charles in his mind for safe keeping, knowing that they would no doubt be valuable at a later date.

“I get it, you know, why you freaked out about his telepathy. I kicked Charles out of my head when I was thirteen. I wanted privacy. There were things I didn’t want him to see or know about me anymore. It can be kind of freaky what he can do.” 

Silence permeated the room once more.

“You aren’t much of a talker, are you?” Raven huffed. “I am going to finish my ‘hurt my brother and I’ll kill you speech’ now and then I’m going to bed.”

“By all means.” Erik smiled his biggest, most tooth-full grin. “Do your worst.”

“Charles is special, alright? He’s sweet and kind and always thinks the best of people. He’ll do almost anything to make other people feel comfortable and help them. It’s almost sickening how nice he is. And I don’t think he should have given you another chance, but that’s Charles to a T: always believing in people, never losing hope. So don’t break him, okay?”

“I’m not planning to break him.” Erik conceded.

“Hmm. And don’t think because he’s the nicest man you’ve ever met that he’s fragile and vulnerable, or shit like that. Charles is one of the strongest, most resilient people I have ever met. He has been through a lot of crap in his life and he came out the other side of it just as idealistic as ever. So don’t mess with him – he’s stronger than he looks.”

With those final words of wisdom Raven stood up, frowning deeply at Erik as she did, and left the room.

Erik settled himself back on the couch, thoughts filled with Raven’s words and the little pieces of Charles she had given him. He’d already known Charles was special – how anyone could think otherwise was a mystery to Erik. Thinking of Charles’ life being full of crappy situations and limited connection outside his relationship with his sister though, that didn’t sit well with Erik at all. It wasn’t what he would have expected to hear and it certainly wasn’t what Charles deserved.

Erik knew he and Charles had a lot to talk about when Charles was willing to talk again. It seemed the list of topics had just gotten a hell of a lot longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies once again for the delay in posting this chapter, but my new pace will likely continue to be just a bit slower than before. Not only do I have a busy couple months ahead, but I manged to completely fry my laptop this week and am currently waiting for a new one to arrive. I'm still writing, but its not the same using a different computer set up for some reason. The moral of this story is that I should be forbidden to have liquids anywhere near electronics forever- this is the second time I've killed a MacBook by spilling a beverage.
> 
> Thank you all for reading. I truly appreciate all the comments and kudos - they mean so very much to me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

****

**Chapter 9**

Erik sat across from Raven at the small round dining table, his vision of her slightly obscured by cereal boxes. As he crunched on his Raisin Bran and watched Raven tuck into a bowl that contained Fruit Loops, Corn Flakes, and Mini Wheats combined, he wondered again at the Xavier eating habits.

“You gonna talk this morning, or just glare at me?” Raven asked pointedly between bites.

“I’m just pondering how you and your brother haven’t developed scurvy from a vitamin deficiency.”

Raven snorted into her cereal, but immediately scowled at Erik once she regained her composure.

“Listen, I have to get to school.” She hesitated slightly before continuing, as if wondering whether Erik deserved any more information or not. “Don’t – whatever you do – DO NOT wake up Charles, okay? Even if he’s not up at noon, just let him be.”

“He doesn’t have class?”

“I texted that geeky research partner of his to let him know Charles is sick. He said he’ll cover things until Charles gets back. Charles isn’t one to miss school stuff – he usually drags his ass to campus even when he probably shouldn’t, which as you can guess is part of the reason days like today happen.”

Erik sat silently, crunching away at his cereal as Raven gave him the stare down.

“Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?”

“Okay, I will not wake Charles up.” Erik rolled his eyes. “Satisfied?”

“Not at all. There’s still a stubborn asshole sitting in my apartment.” Her eyes narrowed at Erik. “Do you even try to get people to like you?”

“No.” Erik replied plainly.

“Figures.” Raven muttered as she got up from her chair and placed her dishes in the sink. “Exactly the kind of hopeless case my brother would fall for.”

Erik was almost sure Raven hadn’t meant for him to hear that last comment, but he had and it was yet another nugget of information about Charles he tucked away in his mind.

As he was filling the sink with soapy water for dishes, Raven dashed by in some sort of school uniform, gave him one more look, all while pointing her finger at him aggressively, and then rushed out the door. Erik shook his head and turned back to the dishes, carefully scrubbing every inch of his cereal bowl before placing it in the dish rack.

With his hands occupied with a mundane task, Erik’s mind wandered to the night before. Specifically to about 3am the night before when Charles had walked out of his room and into the kitchen, eyes mostly closed, hair sticking straight up from his scalp. Erik had found himself staring wide-eyed at Charles’ body as his boxers and white t-shirt revealed more to Erik’s eyes than he had ever seen before. Charles was lean, but had surprisingly muscular thighs, his body hair was pale and freckles dotted his arms in a pleasantly distracting fashion; Erik found himself imagining he could make a catalogue of every freckle and wondered how many more were still hidden away under Charles’ clothing.

Completely unaware of Erik’s scrutiny, Charles walked through the apartment and Erik wondered if he might be sleep walking. As Erik approached, Charles did not appear to notice his presence in any way. Erik watched him rummaging through the cupboards until he emerged with two cans of chicken noodle soup. At that moment Erik decided that letting a man who may be fully asleep cook soup was a bad idea – he gently touched Charles’ shoulder and was happy to discover the younger man was easily lead to the table and positioned in one of the chairs. Erik proceeded to heat the soup and place it in front of Charles, fascinated as Charles slurped down spoonful after spoonful of the salty concoction, never once acknowledging Erik’s presence sitting across the table, before he stood up and wandered back to his room.

After such a surreal experience under the darkness of night, Erik had no idea how to prepare for what he might encounter in the light of day.

He had a lot of time to wait if Raven’s prediction about how much sleep Charles would need was accurate and with all this free time, Erik decided to do what he would do at home: organize and clean. He began with the seventeen piles of books in the living room.

* * *

Charles fluttered into consciousness slowly, one eye opening at a time only to shut immediately at the brightness assaulting the room. His limbs felt heavy and moved sluggishly as he tried without success to get out of bed. Resigning himself to lying on the bed, Charles focused instead on getting both his eyes open at the same time – surely that was a reasonable starting point.

Sometime later – it could have been five minutes or five hours – Charles finally had both eyes open and his head lifted inches off the mattress, craning his neck to look at his door. He had gradually become aware as he was lying in bed that there were noises coming from outside his room and given that his phone said it was one o’clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday, there shouldn’t have been anyone home.

Determined to protect his home (as humble as it was) from whoever was roaming about, Charles pushed himself into a sitting position, got shakily to his feet, and fumbled around for his dressing gown. He looked hastily around for some type of weapon to brandish at the intruder, but found his room sadly lacking. Charles huffed in momentary frustration at his own pacifist ways. Giving up any pre-tense of violence (honestly, he was a telepath, he didn’t need a bat to get someone out of his apartment, except of course right now his telepathy was on the fritz from overuse and he could sense absolutely nothing with his mutation), did his best to straighten his shoulders and pull himself up to his full, but still rather unimpressive, height.

When he ventured into the main living area of the apartment to find Erik Lehnsherr wrapped in an apron while he mopped the floor, Charles honestly thought he’d gone insane.

“You’re dreaming.” He muttered to himself. “You are having unrealistic, impossible dreams about Erik again.”

Dream Erik, unfortunately, looked up at Charles at that moment, his forehead creased in annoyance.

“You’re not dreaming Charles.”

Erik’s reply almost knocked Charles right off his feet – dream Erik should not be telling him he wasn’t dreaming, that just wasn’t right.

Somehow, dream Erik had put down the mop, walked over to Charles and was now grasping Charles’ arm (and feeling very real and corporeal – not at all dreamlike) as he lead him to the sofa and sat him down. Charles could feel his mouth gaping, but couldn’t seem to make it close, nor could he find any words to express how bewildered he was at the entire situation.

“Charles, do you know where you are?” Dream Erik asked, looking concerned.

“I’m in my apartment.” Charles replied. “Likely in bed, since I seem to be dreaming.” He added under his breath, although from Erik’s reaction he had heard every word.

“You’re not dreaming, Charles.” Dream-Erik insisted once more. “Just, stay here.” He instructed, before he left Charles sitting alone in the living room.

Charles could hear the exasperation in Erik’s voice, but it did nothing to dispel his certainty that he was currently stuck in a dream. One of the horribly vivid ‘domestic’ dreams he sometimes had about Erik where they were living together and playing chess in ‘their’ living room, and Erik was making him delicious meals every day and Charles was just trying to figure out what he possibly could have done to deserve this perfect man who looked like a Greek God, loved debating with Charles every night, and was a master in the kitchen. Whereas, Charles was just…Charles. Silly bumbling Charles who left tea cups everywhere and who burnt soup regularly, and who definitely did not have the body of any type of god - although he had had a few people compliment him on his eyes, so that was something.

It was only a matter of time before he woke up from this dream (which, since it was happening in his own apartment, was already a bit off) and found himself rudely awakened by the reality of an Erik-less life. Charles closed his eyes and listened with half an ear to the noises dream-Erik was making in the kitchen – it seemed dream-Erik was cooking again and Charles hoped whatever he made was as delicious as always. Dream-Erik came back to Charles with eggs, toast and tea – proving once again he was perfection incarnate.

“You’re always so perfect.” Charles said as he gazed at dream-Erik in wonder. “I’ve never dreamt about you with an apron before, how is it perfect?”

“Charles –“

“Do you ever dream about me?” Charles suddenly wondered.

“Yes, Charles.” Dream-Erik replied, a soft smile twitching the sides of his lips.

“I could never be perfect, even in your dreams.” Charles responded sadly, looking down at his food as it balanced precariously on his lap.

“You’re perfect to me Charles. Always.” 

Dream-Erik had somehow found the most romantic response possible (of course he had) and Charles felt his eyes welling up.

“Charles, can you feel me?” Dream-Erik asked, just as Charles was sure he was about to crumple into a ball of happy tears.

“Can I feel you?” Charles repeated dumbly, blinking is eyes quickly to catch his tears.

“Can you…feel me?” Dream-Erik repeated. “With your telepathy. Can you feel me?”

“Oh. Err.” Charles frowned as his head immediately pulsed with pain at the mere suggestion of using his telepathy. 

“Hurts.” He muttered, rubbing his temples to ease the ache.

“The last time this happened to you…the last time you had a migraine like this, how long did it take for your powers to get back to normal?”

Charles narrows he eyes at Erik, feeling a creeping suspicion that the man before him may not in fact be a dream. Dream-Erik wouldn’t ask him these questions. As his stomach churned and the pain behind his temples spiked, Charles forced himself to relax his shields minutely and reached out toward Erik. 

Despite his hopes to find nothing and confirm he is dreaming, Charles instead discovered the brilliant shimmer of real Erik’s thoughts: so precise, so orderly, so Erik.

“Ah …ow!” Charles grimaced as he pulled himself away from Erik’s mind telepathically and physically tried to ball up his body to protect himself, only to find a plate of food in his way. 

“Bloody hell.” He exclaimed, as he attempted to grab the plate before it was crushed between his legs and his belly.

Erik’s long fingers wrapped themselves around Charles’ wrist, steadying him. He then removed the plate from Charles’ lap and set it down on the solid surface of the coffee table, as he remained crouched in front of Charles.

“I shouldn’t have asked, Charles.” Erik’s voice sounded ragged. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a dream.” Charles managed to say before he closed he eyes and wished he was back in his bed, still sleeping.

With his eyes closed, the embarrassment of his recent words and actions sank in and Charles found himself close to tears again, though for a completely different reason than he had been five minutes ago. Oh, god he’d told Erik he was perfect, he’d acted so foolishly. How was he supposed to open his eyes again and look at Erik and not want to bury his head in shame?

“Charles…” Erik’s voice was so soft and close - it just made Charles want to close his eyes even tighter. “I –“

“Oh no!” Charles exclaimed suddenly completely awake, aware and horrified. “I touched your mind! I used my telepathy – are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry –“

“Charles.” Erik stopped Charles firmly. “I asked you to. I asked if you could feel me. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t hurt me. To be honest, I’m not sure I felt you at all.”

After he stared at Erik for some time, Charles slowly relax back in his chair. It was true – Erik had asked and Charles had barely brushed his surface thoughts before he had backed away from the pain of using his powers.

“You asked me.” He whispered in disbelief.

“I did.” Erik nodded. “I tried to say it the other night Charles: I was wrong to reject your telepathy. Your mutation is…incredible and if I’ve had a bad experience with a telepath before, I shouldn’t have let that affect how I treated you.”

Charles knew he was staring wide-eyed, holding on to every word Erik spoke as if it was life altering – and in a sense it was.

“I can’t say I’m going to comfortable with your telepathy right away, or even every time you use it, particularly when it’s directed at me, but I will try.”

“Thank you Erik.” Charles replied. “That…means a great deal to me, my friend.”

“I think,” Erik began, frowning slightly, “I think it might help if you could explain more about your mutation.” Erik looked at Charles then, his eyes revealing his apprehension. “If you can.”

Charles let out a huff of breath, unsure of what to say. Erik knew his secret, but he didn’t know any specifics and it would likely be best if he didn’t. However, Charles was almost one hundred percent sure he was on the verge of falling in love with this wonderful, complex man and denying Erik information about his mutation was not going to help their relationship in any way.

“I…what do you want to know?” Charles asked. “I hardly know where to start. I’ve never really spoken to anyone about my mutation, not since I was a child.”

“What can you do?” Erik began. “I know you can read minds, but what does that mean? That’s not all you can do, is it?”

“No.” Charles answered hesitantly. “You know how you said you could do so many things with your mutation, but you don’t?” 

Erik nodded in response.

“My mutation is…similar. There are many, many things I could do, but do not. I could reach into someone’s mind and remove or alter their memories – but I have never done so.”

Charles stopped talking abruptly, drawing in a ragged breath. Talking about his abilities brought up so much anxiety, so much shame. To keep something so deeply hidden and suddenly trying to be open about it all, as if he had never been obscuring the truth of his life for years – it was simply impossible. Charles’ whole body shook from the effort of be genuine, to be fully himself and give up even a fragment of the ridged control he’d maintained over his life and his mutation for so many years.

“What is it like?” Erik spoke softly, gently placing his hand on top of Charles’ own. “This is going to sound so stupid…” Erik said, chuckling slightly. “What is a regular day like? What do you…sense?”

“Oh, well, hmm. No one has ever asked me that before.” Charles found himself smiling back at Erik, his anxiety beginning to ease. “I can sense everyone – I suppose that’s an important place to start. Some telepaths have to touch people to sense them, or have a close relationship of some sort, but I can sense every mind. But because I can sense everyone it becomes…quite muddled. It’s like being in a crowd of people where everyone is speaking at once – you can’t possibly isolate every voice, or every word. So, I hear some things – surface thoughts, which is mostly people complaining about their day, or thinking about tasks they have to get done. Or I hear very loud thoughts – like when people are trying to remember something and keep repeating it to themselves, or they are very emotional about something, mostly anger, or pain, but sometimes joy, or lust. Everything else, it just becomes static.”

Charles found that he was unable to maintain eye contact with Erik as he spoke, but their hands remained in contact, like an anchor that kept Charles from having an out-of-body experience. He hesitantly looked up at Erik to find him looking pensive, as if he was considering Charles’ words very carefully. Charles was heartened to see no signs of disgust in Erik’s expression.

“Can you even know whose thought is whose then?” 

“Ah, well sometimes. It depends on how strong and unique the thought is, as well as the mind attached to it. I would have to concentrate much harder to determine where a thought has come from, unless, of course I’m not surrounded by many people.”

“Some minds are more ‘unique’?” Erik asked.

“Yes. Some people’s minds are…brighter? And some, by contrast are darker, or more chaotic. I’m not sure how to put it into words.” Charles shrugged. “Mutant minds seem to…vibrate on a different frequency, you might say, so they tend to be easier to pick up on. Some minds are…ill…evil…I don’t like that description, but they pull you into their darkness, you can spiral out of control so easily and it can be hard to pull back.”

Charles took a deep breath, stopping his no doubt far too in depth description of the minds he touched – so many varied minds.

Erik continued to look thoughtful across from him, taking in Charles’ words without apparent judgement.

“Different metals feel different to me. It’s like they hum a different tune.” Erik finally broke the silence that had built between them. “I suppose it’s similar in a way.”

“Yes.” Charles nodded, relieved beyond anything to find common ground with another mutant. “Yes, it would be.”

Silence stretched again as Charles stared at Erik, and he stared back. But Charles found it comfortable this time, almost relaxing. His shoulders started to relax, and he could feel the muscles in his body letting go of the tension they had built up during the earlier conversation.

“You should eat. Your food is getting cold.”

Erik held out the plate of food toward Charles, and he reached out to take it. As he took his first bite, he found that cold or not, Erik’s cooking was as delicious as always. Charles honestly tried to contain the sounds of his contentment, but much to his embarrassment, could not keep a purring like sound for escaping his lips.

Given how widely Erik grinned in response, Charles decided he just didn’t care.

* * *

Charles stayed awake long enough to eat the food Erik made for him and to have one rather pathetic game of chess (Erik could tell the younger man was struggling to come up with any sort of strategy), before his eyes began to flutter closed. Erik promptly ushered him back into his bedroom, with strict instructions to sleep for a long as he needed.

Left alone once more in the apartment, Erik decided not to waste a moment. After cleaning up the dishes and putting away the chessboard, Erik got down to business: it was time he confronted Charles’ waste-of-space landlord.

The landlord – a Mr. Grant – was pretty much exactly what Erik suspected he would be: a middle-aged, beer-bellied human who was drunk at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The man tried his ‘tough-guy’ act on Erik, failed miserably, and Erik soon had him marching up the narrow staircase to Charles’ apartment.

He did not warn the landlord about the rotting step (the man should know his own property after all). Erik felt not one iota of guilt when the man ended up with one leg on the stairs and the other leg halfway through the staircase, completely trapped and at Erik’s mercy. 

Erik, thinking of Charles and how he couldn’t get him and his sister kicked out of their apartment, reluctantly hoisted the man out of the hole and did his upmost to fake surprise at ruined stair. Mr. Grant was red-faced and sputtering on about how he had ‘never had anything like this happen before’ in his building. Erik managed to nod along in apparent sympathy, all the while wondering if the man was also going to claim ignorance when it came to the second floor stench, the rotting fire escape, and the broken back door.

He did– asshole.

Erik continued to grit his teeth and hold his tongue. He even found a way to convince Mr. Grant that he knew a guy who could fix the fire escape for about 150 quid, which Mr. Grant saw for the bargain it was and after some minor bartering, handed Erik 135£ and then sauntered off to ‘do something about that damn hole.’

Erik quickly checked on Charles – still fast asleep, curled into a small ball, as if he was trying to make himself as minuscule as possible, his hair, having grown out quite a bit over the past two months, now fell forward, over his face. Erik was incredibly tempted to lie down beside the man and see if a few kisses and gentle touches might relax Charles, but they had yet to discuss the status of their relationship. Beyond the obvious fact that they were working to repair all the damage Erik had done over Christmas dinner. Which, if he was honest, Erik was extremely grateful for. He hadn’t had much in the way of expectations when he’d met Charles at that coffee shop, but to be here, in the younger man’s apartment, watching him sleep was about ten thousand times better than what he’d thought might happen. He could have done without Charles collapsing and taking ten years of his life, but other than that, this whole ‘apologize to Charles and make him like you again’ thing was going pretty well.

Confident that Charles was safe and resting, Erik made his way outside. After giving the alley beside the apartment a thorough investigation to insure he was alone, Erik began the process of repairing the fire escape with his powers, one rusty bolt at a time.

Erik felt both drained and satisfied when he was finished. He hadn’t used his powers for such precise work over an extended period for some time. But he was more than satisfied to know that in the event of a fire, Charles, Raven and everyone else in the building at least had a chance to make it out alive.

Erik took the stairs two at a time on his way back up to Charles, hoping that he would make it back before Charles woke up again. Thankfully, he did.

Just as Erik was slipping the 135£ into the pocket of Charles’ oversized corduroy jacket, he heard the sounds of someone stirring in the bedroom. He barely had time to leap onto the couch before Charles emerged from his room, hair sticking up on one side while also flopping forward over his eyes.

“Oh, hello.” Charles said, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he ambled into the living room. “You’re still here…I wasn’t sure you would be.”

“I was hoping you’d wake up before I had to leave.” Erik said, standing.

A quick glance at his watch showed him it was almost 4:30pm and he had to get back to his place for his Wednesday evening phone call with his mother.

“I’m sorry to rush out, but I have a date.” 

“You have a date. Of course you have a date.” Charles chuckled sadly, head hanging.

“Charles…” Erik stepped closer to the sleep-tussled man. “I have a date with my mother.”

“Your mother?” Charles’ eyes widened as he looked up at Erik.

“Yes. My mother and I talk via Skype every Wednesday evening.” Erik replied, hoping he didn’t sound too much like a mama’s-boy.

“Oh, that’s lovely.”

Erik gazed at Charles, searching his face for any hint of sarcasm, but found none – the man was genuine delighted. His smile was soft and full of kindness, but also a longing that Erik suspected came from having such a distant relationship with his own mother.

“I won’t keep you then, my friend.” Charles added with a smile. “No need to stay on my account, Raven should be home soon.”

Erik walked to the front door with Charles by his side. He knew he had to say something – no he wanted to say something. But how could he say he’d thought for a moment, when Charles had passed out in his car last night, that he whole world was crumbling before his eyes? How could he put into words all the emotions that had pounded through his body when he had had to consider the possibility that Charles might never wake up and talk to him again?

Today they had begun again. They had taken tentative steps toward rebuilding…something. Whatever it was that pulsed between them, Erik knew they were both willing to work to keep it going. He needed Charles to know, with complete certainty that Erik wanted this – whatever this was – to work, to keep evolving, to keep growing.

Erik stopped in the doorway, his coat slung over his shoulder.

“Charles?”

“Hmm.” Charles looked up at him, a bit puzzled, as if he’d just been lost in thought. “Yes?”

“Would you…could we try again? Having dinner?” Erik cursed himself for not being able to get the words out properly. “Would you come over to my place on Sunday, for dinner?”

There, he’d said it. 

“I…yes.” Charles answered. “I would like that very much.”

“Good.” Erik smiled. “That’s good.”

* * *

Edie worried about her son. Any mother would worry if their only child lived an ocean away and had suffered a messy break-up far from family. The fact that two years later Erik’s life seemed to be stuck in a rut was troubling as well. Edie would never tell Erik, but she worried. She wanted her boy to be happy. She wanted him to move on from Magda and start living again.

He certainly had not been happy during their last conversation. He had looked positively destroyed when he’d told her about his ‘mistake’ with his friend. Edie had spent the last few days wringing her hands wondering if Erik had been able to make amends. She had thought of him and mentioned him in all her daily prayers. Now, minutes away from their Wednesday call, she found herself pacing her living room, hoping to see a happier look on her son’s face.

Right on time, as expected, her computer rang with a notification for an incoming Skype call. Edie hurried over to her desk, sat down and clicked to start the call.

At her first glimpse of Erik’s face, Edie let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Erik looked lighter, he looked hopeful.

“Erik, my boy!” She exclaimed, happiness flooding her chest. “Things are better – yes?”

“Momma, we haven’t even said hello.”

“I was thinking of you. And your friend too.” Edie studied her son carefully across the screen. “But if you don’t want to share with your mother –“

“No, Momma. I want to. Things are better. Not perfect, but better.”

“Oh, how wonderful schatz!”

“In fact Momma…I would like you to meet someone on Sunday, when we talk again.”

“You would like me to meet your friend?” Edie felt her heart leap into her throat.

Erik had been seeing Magda for months before he’d introduced her to Edie. And he had never brought anyone home to meet his mother before Magda – not ever. She remembered asking him about it once, _‘I only want someone special to meet you Momma. You’re too important for anyone less than that’_. If Erik wanted Edie to meet this friend, they must be a very special person indeed.

“Charles Momma, his name is Charles.” Erik said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Erik.” Edie sighed. “It will be very nice to meet your Charles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and your patience as my paced has slowed down. I appreciate the understanding!
> 
> And I hope you can see the tables are turning a bit here for Erik and Charles - it's starting to look a bit sunnier I think :)
> 
> Also, if you can't tell by this and previous chapters, Edie Lehnsherr is both wise and wonderful. I think she hung the moon - she can do no wrong in my eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles try again. Will their second chance go more smoothly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to both of my betas for their help on this chapter and for getting it back to me more quickly than I had expected. I'm pretty sure people will be happy to read this sooner, rather than later:)
> 
> All mistakes that remain are my own.

**Chapter 10**

Moira studied Erik carefully from across the table as he ate his salad. Something was up, but she wasn’t sure what it was. Erik looked…different.

When she’d dropped by his office earlier today to ask him to dinner to talk about Professor Clarke, he’d been knee deep in transcribing interviews from graduate students about that very topic. And he’d seemed happy – well as ‘happy’ as Erik ever could be – about going to dinner. He’d certainly accepted without much protest. But now he seemed quiet, almost contemplative and it was odd. Erik had never been a big talker, he was a deeply private person, but if you got him going on something he was passionate about, it could be hard to shut him up. And the last time they had spoken about Clarke, Erik had certainly been motivated to do whatever he could to help get Clarke reprimanded and possibly kicked out of Oxford.

“So, what the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” Erik replied, frowning at Moira.

“You haven’t said two words since our food got here.” Moira pointed out.

“I don’t have anything to say.” Erik crunched on a forkful of salad and glared at Moira. 

“You don’t have anything to say. You. Have. Nothing. To. Say. About. Clarke. Whom you hate with the fire of a thousand suns.”

“He’s scum. Other than that, I’ve said all I have to say about him.” Erik reasoned.

Moira wanted to scream. Erik had never been this emotionless about an issue he cared about in his life. It was time to go digging.

“So, everything is going well, then. In terms of filing a complaint against him?”

“It’s going. Slower than I want it to, of course, but it’s progressing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me Lehnsherr? You’re going to be that vague? Do I have to pull it out of you piece by piece?”

“Fuck off Moira.” Erik rolled his eyes. “Everything is fine. I have twelve statements from professors and students. They are all recorded. I am almost done transcribing them. Five more students have come forward this week alone to add their names to the complaint, so I still have interviews to conduct. Charles is helping me research past complaints against Oxford professors – which were successful for a start, as well as anything he can find on complaints that were dismissed. I don’t want to make the same mistakes others have already made and have the complaint thrown out. He’s been at it for his last couple shifts and he’s giving me a summary of his findings on the weekend.”

“This weekend?” Moira asked.

“Yes, this weekend. Happy?”

Moira sat back in her seat and gave Erik a slow once over. He looked tense and annoyed, which honestly wasn’t that different from his norm, but still, something was off. Lehnsherr seemed…twitchy maybe? Like he was avoiding something? If Moira had mutant abilities she would swear she could smell something was up, but all she had was her gut instinct.

“I am not happy, no.” She declared, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you didn’t want to talk to me – your friend – you didn’t have to agree to dinner. Thinking that my friend is going to speak to me over a meal is not an unreasonable request.”

The corners of Erik’s mouth turned down and he looked away.

“Fuck.” He muttered.

“We have been friends for three years Erik. I let you crash at my place for weeks when Magda broke your heart. You can talk to me. About anything.”

Erik looked up at Moira from under hooded eyes, still frowning, still questioning.

“Hey, who kept you from going to Magda’s office and trying to woo her back? I did. And who stopped you from turning her asshole, cheating scum boss’s car into a little metal ball? I did.” Moira sighed. “I also bought you about a month’s supply of Jaffa cakes which you ate in three days and said not one word about it.”

“You’re saying something now.”

“Yeah, because you are being ridiculous. Talk to me.” Moira said in her most encouraging voice.

“I... met someone.”

“Oh.” 

Moira let out a soft huff of surprise. This bit of information came completely out of left field. Erik hadn’t had much interest in dating since Magda. Moira knew he hadn’t been celibate, but she also knew he hadn’t had any ‘relationships’ in the past two years.

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad you found someone.” Moira smiled – she was genuinely pleased for Erik. 

Erik still looked perturbed, but Moira’s mind was already off and running.

“So, what’s she like? What’s her name? What does she do? Oh! How did you meet?”

“You are incapable of keeping your nose out of other people’s business, aren’t you?” Erik ground out between his teeth.

“You’re seeing someone! This is big news – you can’t blame a girl for being interested when her perpetually single guy friend finally has a special someone in his life.” Moira teased.

“It’s new and I’m not telling you about my personal shit Moira.”

“Come on, you have to give me something. How did you meet – can you tell me that? Or what’s she like? How’d she hook the elusive Erik Lehnsherr?"

By the time she’d finished, Moira was grinning broadly at the scowl on Erik’s face – sometimes he was too easy to rattle. Everything bothered the man.

“He is lovely.”

“Oh! Oh, well he then. How long have you been dating this mysterious ‘he’?”

“We’ve been on,” Erik stopped, obviously considering his words carefully, “two dates.”

“Two dates.” Moira hummed. “That is very new. Strange that you had to think about it – two isn’t a very high number to count to.”

“You’re a fucking comedian.” Erik grumbled. “We’ve…seen each other outside of a dating environment.”

“Ah, a hint! You knew him before the dating, or outside of the dating, or something.”

Erik said nothing – of course. Sometimes Moira questioned her own sanity when it came to her friendship with Erik. He could be so incredibly frustrating and stubborn. Of course he also hid a genuinely good man deep below his façade of indifference and hostility. Moira had learned over the years that if she wanted Erik to share something, anything personal, he needed time. But then, patience had never been one of Moira’s virtues.

“So are you seeing him again soon?” She inquired.

“Hmm. This weekend. He’s meeting my mother.”

“He’s meeting your mother? That’s…that’s a bit…fast.” Moira squeaked, suddenly feeling rather worried on behalf of the man Erik was dating.

“It’s not in person, just over Skype.” Erik appeared entirely unconcerned, which only spiked Moira’s worry.

“Erik, do you…how did you and Magda start dating again?”

“She needed a roommate in grad school and I needed a cheap place to live. We lived together and just sort of…fell into a relationship.” He explained.

“Erik, people don’t generally introduce their parents to their…partners this quickly. Surely you didn’t introduce Magda to your mother this quickly? Are you sure –“

“Everyone likes my mother and my mother likes everyone.” Erik stated confidently.

“Yes, but you just started dating this man.” Moira protested.

“So.”

Moira sighed and gave up. Erik was going to be Erik – which meant he was going to do exactly what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it.

“Does he know he’s meeting your mother?”

Erik took another bite of his food and shook his head casually. “Nope.”

Moira felt her stomach drop: ‘Oh that poor man.’ Moira had no idea why she hadn’t thought Erik Lehnsherr would be a terrible boyfriend – it was just like him to go from zero to sixty in two dates. Moira only hoped his new beau could appreciate how enthusiastically Erik threw himself into things.

* * *

Charles looked down at the stack of folders he’d been packing and sighed. He’d dedicated himself to researching complaints filed against professors in a bid to help Erik fight against Professor Clarke and his anti-mutant campaign. Between the lab with Hank, his classes, and researching for Erik, it had been an exhausting few days. Unfortunately his research had not produced positive results. And tonight he was going to have to tell Erik.

Charles groaned. This whole idea of starting over, of re-doing dinner with Erik had seemed so simple just a few days ago. But now…all of Charles’ inner doubts were creeping up again. Was Erik really going to accept his telepathy? Had Charles really found someone who wasn’t going to push him away from fear of being controlled and spied upon? How could Erik possibly be interested in him? 

Charles paced across the worn floor of his bedroom, restless and on edge. What was he going to wear? Charles stared at his rather pathetic wardrobe in his closet and sighed. Charles reached in and grabbed his one pair of jeans and a button down and figured it would be good enough. If Erik liked him enough to invite him to dinner, he obviously either didn’t care about Charles fashion choices (unlike Raven, who was perpetually embarrassed to be seen with him), or he actually liked Charles in cardigans and too big pants (which seemed unlikely).

What if Erik wanted to do…stuff? Charles’ experience with sex was limited to kissing, hand jobs and one aborted blow job (which surely counted for something). Not to mention the many unintended telepathic visions of other people’s desires and memories, and his own dreams and fantasies. And a very good portion of those fantasies revolved completely around Erik and giving Erik pleasure. 

Charles had more than enjoyed his kiss with Erik and he was certain he would enjoy kissing other parts of Erik as well – particularly his cock. Charles may not have ever given a blow job to completion before, but he just knew he was going to adore licking and sucking Erik’s dick. He’d spent a lot of time fantasizing about it (and a slightly shameful amount of time reading up on fellatio techniques online).

But it was best not to get carried away – Erik had not said outright that he wanted anything more than friendship. Charles felt the invitation to dinner implied…something, but he really couldn’t be sure.

Charles let out the breath he’d been holding and did his best to calm his racing heart. He walked out of his room and towards the door, stopping to grab his oversized coat and slip on his boots.

He spied Raven peaking at him from the kitchen and did his best to look undisturbed. Honestly, given how many times Raven had lectured him about Erik and how he did not deserve a second chance, Charles was more than a little annoyed with her.

“I’m leaving for Erik’s.” He said as he stood up straight and met Raven’s gaze head on.

“Yeah, I figured.” Raven replied with a shrug.

Charles didn’t know what else to say without possibly starting another argument, so he bent down and grabbed his book bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Listen, Charles before you go, I just wanted to say…have a good time okay. And I’m sorry for harping on you about Erik so much the last couple days.”

“Apology accepted.” Charles said with a smile.

He was genuinely surprised – Raven wasn’t usually one for apologies. It was a rare treat to receive an impromptu apology from his sister about anything.

Charles turned and reached behind him to close the door. Just before he could close it completely, a hand stopped him and Raven peaked through the small slit.

“Oh, and the other night when you were passed out I might have told Erik you were an inexperienced virgin. Bye!” Raven squeaked and then slammed the door shut.

Great. Just great. Charles projected as much of his embarrassed anger as he could through the door, before he spun on his heal and left, hoping the cool night air and the long ride on public transportation over to Erik’s place would keep his mind off Raven’s confession.

* * *

Erik could feel a new and odd sensation thrumming through his body. It was warm and made him feel relaxed, even as he was whisking eggs whites to make meringue. He thought it might be contentment.

Contentment came in the form of Charles leaning over the counter in Erik’s kitchen, with his ass sticking out in a particularly pleasing manner, while he chatted happily with Erik’s mother via Skype. They were currently engaged in a love fest where they gushed about BBC period dramas – it should have been sickening to Erik, but it wasn’t. Charles was smiling, his mother was smiling, and it had taken them all of five minutes to fall into easy conversation. The warmth in Erik’s chest just keep on spreading.

“Have you seen ‘North and South’?” Charles asked.

“No. That is not an Austen novel, is it?”

“No, no it isn’t.” Charles was now standing and gesturing with excitement. “It’s based off an Elizabeth Gaskell novel. You must watch it Edie! My sister once told me if she put me in a Victorian dress and put my hair up I’d look just Margaret Hale – it was possibly the greatest compliment of my life!”

Erik couldn’t keep himself from snorting, but covered it up the best he could with a cough.

“Your sister, she is a joker.” His mother replied and Erik could hear the fondness in her voice.

Already, she sounded as if she had adopted Charles as her second son. Erik felt another surge of warmth travel through his body as he thought about his evening so far.

Charles had arrived in his typical tardy fashion – almost exactly five minutes late. Of course, he’d apologized, but Erik hadn’t really been listening. He’d been far too fixated on the fact that Charles was wearing jeans, for only the second time in their acquaintance. Erik vaguely remembered the first and only time Charles had worn jeans, since it had been their first meeting and he hadn’t been quite as enamoured at the time. Once Erik got Charles through the door and had a good look at young man walking into his flat, he couldn’t suppress a wide, satisfied smile: that was an ass made for jeans.

Shortly afterwards, when Erik has coaxed Charles into the kitchen to help him make supper, he had once again been charmed by Charles, for a completely different reason. This time due to his complete lack of knowledge about kitchen gadgets. Erik had assumed that asking Charles to help make lasagna would be relatively simple, but then again he had counted on Charles having a few basic culinary skills.

“What is this?” Charles has asked, complete befuddled by the item in his hand.

“A garlic press.” Erik had answered, confused by Charles’ confusion.

“What do I do with it?”

Erik had quickly taken the garlic press away and put Charles in charge of opening cans of tomato sauce. Charles had still managed to splatter an absurd amount of sauce on his shirt. Erik had promptly given Charles one of his t-shirts to change into. When Charles had emerged from the bathroom in the too big shirt, Erik’s heart had lurched in his chest- oh did he ever like the look of Charles in his clothes.

When Erik had causally mentioned he was going to call his mother via Skype as the lasagna was cooking, Charles had looked momentarily surprised. Erik had been very pleased at how quickly he’d recovered. Why Moira had been concerned, he would never understand.

He continued to whip up dessert (lemon meringue pie), while Charles and his mother chatted. They had now moved on to food (hardly shocking) and his mother was carefully explaining to Charles how when Erik was a teenager she had encouraged him to chop everything with his powers.

"Splendid. Absolutely splendid!" Charles exclaimed. "Erik has exquisite control over his mutation – and he obviously has you to thank for much of that."

Charles glanced over his shoulder at Erik, positively beaming. Erik raised his eyebrows and continued to spoon dollops of meringue onto the pie using his mutation.

Erik finished topping his pie and set it aside.

“Dinner will be ready in a moment.”

“Oh!” Charles exclaimed. “I should go put my shirt on – I don’t want to get anything on yours Erik. It’s clear I cannot be trusted not to get sauce all over myself. If you’ll excuse me Edie, it was ever so lovely talking with you.”

“We will speak again soon.” Edie replied firmly.

Charles flashed Edie a brilliant smile and walked off toward the bathroom. Erik watched him go, trying not to stare too long at the younger man before turning his attention back to his mother.

"He is a lovely boy, Erik."

"He's not a child, Momma." 

"He looks very young, but…" his mother sighed, "also not young at all. He is, what do they say, an 'old soul'."

"You liked him?"

Erik hated to ask, but he couldn’t help the question from escaping his lips. He had to know that his mother sees it too: that she can see how rare Charles is, how unique.

"Yes, schatz. I like him very much."

Erik felt that warmth again, flooding his chest and making his heart hammer in his chest. Without even realizing it, a smile crept across his face.

"You like him too, very much." His mother's voice is certain, betraying not a hint of doubt.

"Yes." Erik agreed. "Are you disappointed?"

"No." His mother shook her head. "No, of course not. You are so happy bubbeleh. Perhaps I worry – your Charles, he cannot hide his sadness, not from me. And I think, not from you either."

Erik glanced quickly down the hall, but there was no sign of Charles.

"I'd like to help him be happier."

"Your big heart is showing my boy."

"Momma…" Erik groaned in protest.

"Bah! You cannot hide these things from your mother!"

"Whatever are you trying to hide from your mother, Erik?" Charles voice floated in from the edge of the kitchen.

He moved carefully to stand beside Erik, his shirt slightly damp from earlier attempts at removing stains and clinging lightly to his chest.

"I simply cannot believe you could pull the wool over your mother's eyes - she's far too bright for that." Charles concluded.

"I like him. You better keep feeding Charles well so I can see him again and get more compliments." Edie managed to smile, while her cheeks flush with pleasure.

Erik watched Charles return Edie's smile and thought perhaps a regular Sunday night dinner might be in order. He'd just have to run the idea by Charles, but not under his mother's watchful eye.

"Goodbye for now, Momma."

"Goodbye schatz. We talk on Wednesday, yes?" Erik nodded in agreement. "And goodbye to you too Charles. I hope you enjoy the lasagna."

"I'm sure it will be delicious – everything Erik makes is sublime. Goodbye Mrs. Lehnsherr."

"None of that! It's Edie and I will not answer to anything else." Edie frowned. "You hear me, Charles. Nothing else."

Erik glanced over at Charles to see a strange, blank look on his face. 

"Yes ma'am – yes Edie." He replied his voice scratchy.

"Good boy." Edie nodded briskly in approval. "Goodnight then, to you both."

Erik closed his laptop and hesitantly looked over at Charles, who seemed to be rooted on the spot.

"If you want to sit down, I'll bring the food to the table." Erik said, hoping his words might get Charles to move.

They did. Although Erik could see Charles was still lost in thought. He sat at the table, shoulders hunched, curling himself inwards protectively. Erik had set out glasses of wine, but Charles didn't touch his at all while Erik dished up the food and walked over to the table.

"Charles…" Erik began.

"Oh, this looks just wonderful Erik!" Charles interrupted, his voice full of giddy pleasure.

As Charles continued to smile, Erik sat down across from him and watched Charles practically inhale a mouthful of lasagna. He somehow managed to smile while chewing. But he did not make a single noise – no hums, no moans, no purrs - nothing. Perhaps someone else, someone who hadn’t been feeding Charles for months wouldn’t have noticed the difference, but Erik did. He picked up his fork and stabbed at his own meal. He kept looking at Charles as he ate. Nothing tasted right.

* * *

Charles knew it was his fault – he was ruining dinner. Things had been going so well and then Edie had treated him…well she'd treated him with such sincere affection, almost like a son. Charles didn't know what to make of that, didn't know how to accept that kind of sweetness. He'd certainly never received anything even remotely similar from his mother.

As he peeked across the table at Erik, he knew he had to pull himself together. The lasagna was delicious. Erik, sitting at the table in his casual grey Henley looked painfully handsome – Charles had to recover, he had to salvage this evening.

"The meal is truly sublime, Erik."

"Thank you." Erik’s replied shortly and Charles felt the chasm between them widen.

Charles felt deflated – overly polite conversation was not the right way to break the tension.

"I feel as though I’ve disappointed you, which I never meant to do." Charles could barely look Erik in the eye as he spoke, but a quick glance shows him frowning deeply. "Your mother is incredibly lovely Erik. I just…I have no idea what it's like to have a ‘normal’, affectionate maternal figure around and it’s rather overwhelming to receive such unconditional kindness and love, when my own mother was ever so cold. And I have more bad news; about the research I've been doing for the Clarke case? It's not gone well. Not a single mutant initiated complaint filed at Oxford has ever been successful and the number of complaints against professors in general that have led to immediate disciplinary action are few and far between."

Charles gulped in a breath and kept going, like a runaway train unable to hold back now that he's started. All his faults are spilling out of his mouth like water from a tap.

"I'm ruining this whole evening. Did you know I spent time worrying about my clothes? As if what I wore would make any difference. I thought if I looked different, if I looked better maybe you would kiss me again. God, I want to kiss you again. But if you do, I don't know if I can keep myself out of your head – your mind is so very beautiful – and then you'll hate me and–"

Suddenly Charles wasn't talking anymore and it has nothing to do with him at all. If he had been left to his own devices he may well have confessed every sin he'd ever committed and revealed every bit of self-doubt he'd ever had to Erik in one verbal explosion.

Instead, he had to stop. He had to stop because Erik had pressed his lips against his and stolen Charles' breath away. Charles couldn’t stop the desperate whimper that escaped him and his hands clutched at Erik's broad shoulders in an attempt to steady himself. His mind simply could not process what was happening.

"You're kissing me." Charles said voice filled with awe, staring at Erik as he pulled away.

"Yes, liebling." Erik replied gently.

Charles stared at Erik in wonder – his face was so open, his mouth curving upwards at the corners. He was happy. Erik had just kissed him and he was happy. A giddy feeling coursed through Charles body. It felt like hope, and determination, and maybe, just a little bit of moxie.

Charles looked Erik right in the eye. If Erik wanted to kiss, then Charles was bloody well going to kiss him back. Charles pushed his chair back, standing, bringing his body close, ever so close to Erik's and then he pulled the his mouth back down to his. They both groaned as their lips touched again.

Charles thought about how many times he'd wanted to do this, how many times he'd dreamed of kissing Erik, of touching him, of being touched in return. All those fantasies were nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the real thing. To have Erik's long fingers tangled into his hair, and grab at his waist, to feel Erik's tongue as it slipped into his mouth and caressed his own was…everything, it was everything. Charles felt frantic in his need to get closer, to feel more, to touch more of Erik’s long lean body.

Within moments Charles managed to push Erik backwards into the living room in his enthusiasm and Erik's legs collided with the couch. Suddenly, Charles was pulled down, his legs straddling Erik's as they settled onto the couch. Charles paused, for breath and to look at Erik: pupils blown wide, lips pink from their kisses, his hair ruffled from Charles' fingers carding through it for the past few minutes. He was, without doubt, the most handsome man Charles had ever seen.

Charles' examination was interrupted by Erik's hands, as they gave his hips a firm squeeze, pulling him forward, slotting him closer into Erik's body. Charles shivered at the contact, at the feeling of Erik's hard erection against his own, so obviously present even through the layers of their clothing. Erik pulled and Charles leaned forward, helpless to resist kissing him once more. But one of Erik's hands came up quickly, directing Charles's head just off to the side and Charles let out a surprised moan as Erik latched his mouth onto his neck. He'd had no idea his neck was so sensitive, no idea the feel of Erik's mouth on his neck, his shoulder, his ears could be so addictive. Within moments Charles was rocking his body rhythmically, driven by some primitive need to rub himself firmly against Erik's body as their kisses continued.

"Fuck Charles, your ass looks amazing," Erik growled between kisses, "in these jeans. If you wore them at the office I would never be able to keep my hands off you."

At Erik's words Charles tipped his head back further and moaned, exposing more of his neck and throat. Erik did not disappoint, aggressively sucking on Charles' pulse point and then nipping at his shoulder. Their movements against one another intensified. Charles reached out a hand and slipped it under the collar of Erik's shirt, pulling him close and holding him to his neck as the bites and licks travelled over every inch of exposed skin. Charles continued to rock his hips down against Erik's hard cock, feeling Erik's short hard thrusts back against his own – they’d become erratic and frantic. Charles felt breathless and more than slightly out of control.

"Erik." Charles whimpered, the friction against his cock pushing him inevitably toward the edge. "Erik…I…"

"Fuck, yes, Charles. Come here, liebling. Closer."

Erik's hands pulled Charles as close as possible, their mouths meeting in a heated, open mouthed kiss. It was sloppy, all tongue and breathless gasps. Erik bit at Charles' plump lower lip and grabbed his ass, squeezed it firmly, and pulling Charles down into his upward thrusts. Charles wrenched his mouth away, unable to keep kissing as his body frissons with pleasure. One more firm drag of Erik’s cock against his own and Charles was lost, coming with a cry into his jeans.

"So beautiful, liebling." Erik crooned softly into his ear, his hands stroking down Charles’ back. "So beautiful."

It’s a few moments before Charles is able to come down from the high of his orgasm, but when he did, the feeling of Erik's hard cock trapped under him is insistent and irresistible. Charles pushed himself back, far enough to look down at Erik's bulging crotch. He reached his hand forward, slowly as if Erik might jerk away, but of course he doesn't – Erik doesn't move a muscle as Charles carefully unbuttons his pants and lowered his zipper.

Charles slipped his hand into Erik's underwear and wrapped it firmly around Erik's enlarged cock. It was so soft and hot against his skin and Charles hummed softly at the thrilling knowledge that he finally had his hands on Erik's dick. Charles looked up at Erik through his lashes and leaned forward to kiss him quickly on the mouth, making the him hiss.

"Charles…"

"Now it's your turn." Charles whispered, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

"Fuck…Charles." Erik voice was ragged.

Erik twitched beneath him as Charles slowly began moving his hand. Charles smiled softly at the idea that he had such power over Erik – that he could make him so vulnerable, leave him so wanting. 

He moved his hand steadily, grasping Erik firmly and enjoying the feeling of jacking Erik off. Erik's hips began thrusting up into his palm and Charles let his grip slacken so he could touch the head of Erik's cock, finding a pearl of moisture that he rubbed around with his thumb.

"Fuck…Charles, fuck. Harder, faster." 

Erik muttered, a continually stream of Charles' name and vulgar encouragement as Charles continued his ministrations. Erik’s head was flung back against the arm of the couch, his long throat completely exposed. Charles watched, transfixed at the strain of Erik’s muscles, from his thighs, all the way to his neck, as he continued to touch and tease Erik with his fingers.

"Do you like that?" Charles whispered, causing Erik to jerk his head up to meet Charles' eyes. 

Charles held Erik's gaze and began to twist his grip on Erik's cock, moving faster and harder, with a strange newfound sense of confidence. He moaned as he flicked a thumb across the head of Erik's cock once more, aroused to find Erik leaking considerably, before moving his hand back down the shaft to continue pumping. Erik's thrusts into his grip became erratic and Charles licked his lip in anticipation and Erik groaned at the sight.

"You like my mouth." Charles said, again feeling oddly confident, almost as if he was in complete control. 

He leaned forward until his lips brushed Erik ear.

"What would you like me to do with my mouth Erik? Hmm. You can tell me." Erik moaned and twitched under Charles. "Would you like lips around your cock?"

Erik exploded in an instant. He grabbed at Charles’ face, pulling him into a filthy kiss that only ended when Erik broke away to take Charles' hand off his sensitive cock. Charles was immediately pulled back down, with Erik's strong arms wrapped around him. Charles breathed in deeply, savouring Erik's scent as he nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

It was several minutes, several glorious minutes of silence, listening to Erik's breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall, and the beat of his heart under Charles' hand before Erik finally spoke.

"Stay with me? Tonight?" Erik murmured.

Charles tilted his head back and looked up at Erik, who had a look in his eyes Charles had never seen before. He looked so vulnerable, yet hopeful, as if Charles' next words were the most important words he could ever hear.

"Yes." Charles replied with a smile. "Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter. I am happy to report I am now about a chapter and a half ahead in my writing, so that's great. I will likely keep up this pace of about 8-9 days between updates through the summer. If I can speed up after that, well that would be great, but we shall see.
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos and comments. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to know people are reading and enjoying this fic! It completely makes my day.


	11. Chapter 11

****

**Chapter 11**

Erik wasn't the type to stay up all night. When he'd been a student he was always far too organized to pull all-nighters, and he hated college parties with a passion and he certainly wasn’t going to let peer pressure convince him not sleeping was a good idea. Sure, he might have a night where he stayed up late, but he always made sure he got a couple hours of sleep at the least. It was part of his routine, and Erik lived by routine.

Except last night, he'd invited Charles to stay. He'd watched the younger man emerge from the bathroom in too the big pyjamas Erik had lent him and his heart had lurched in his chest. Something about the imagine of Charles in his clothing had simply screamed: mine. When he'd laid down beside Charles in bed it had been impossible to stop touching him – pushing his hair out of his eyes, stroking his arm, holding his hand. They’d also needed to talk, about a great many things.

They laid together, hands often entwined as they talked about quite a few of those things, with nothing but the dull light of the moon and Oxford street lamps to illuminate the room. It had been dream-like, almost surreal. There had been more than a few times Erik had fisted his hands and clenched his jaw in anger – anger over Charles' neglectful mother, his bully of a step-brother, and his authoritarian step-father. Charles never came right out and admitted to being abused, but Erik could read between the lines and was infuriated – infuriated about what had happened to Charles and also by how dismissive Charles was about that whole period of his life, as if it hardly mattered. Erik had a ridiculous wish that he and Charles had met when they were both in New York, when Charles was a child, or a young teen and Erik could have brought him home and introduced him to his mother and Charles would have understood what the love of a parent really was- how life altering it could be to know that you could do anything, you could make the biggest mistakes in life and you would always have someone standing right their beside you to pick you back up again. 

Charles had fallen asleep at some point during their conversation. Erik remembered he'd been thinking about what to ask Charles next (Was he really a virgin? Could he try using his telepathy on Erik again? Could he maybe come stay the night with Erik again? Soon?), when he had looked down and found the younger man passed out, drooling into his pillow. It had been unexpectedly endearing. 

Or at least it had been, until Charles had started rolling around the bed as if he had to explore every inch of it and find the perfect spot to settle down. Finding himself unable to sleep while Charles rolled about, Erik had reluctantly gotten out of bed and gone to the kitchen for a glass of water. He’d also hoped some distance from Charles might give him a bit of perspective.

The feel of the cold wooden floor on his bare feet and the darkness of night through his front window seemed to draw out all his doubts and worries. He was sleeping with a student employee – that certainly crossed some sort of line. Though not an official violation of university rules, surely it was fair to have some pause over the fact that he was starting a relationship with someone ten years younger than he was? He was sleeping with a telepath and that sort of terrified him at times, but he truly didn't want Charles to know, because he was going to overcome this irrational fear, except how did you keep these sorts of things from a telepath?

It was a spiralling rabbit hole of bleakness. Erik was self-aware enough to know he was prone to this type of thing: focusing on the negative, examining a problem in such detail that he couldn't see the forest for the trees, being more than a little fatalistic. It was one of the reasons he was so drawn to Charles- he didn’t seem to exhibit any of these traits with any regularity. Maybe Charles was the balance he needed: the calm to his storm, the light to his dark. Although Erik preferred to think of himself as a pillar of strength, a man who didn’t need anyone else, he was drawn to Charles like a moth to a flame.

Shaking his head to rid himself of his turbulent thoughts, Erik put his glass in the sink and crept back into the bedroom. He frowned immediately at the scene before him. Charles was tangled in the sheets, head twisting side to side, forehead covered in sweat. His sharp moans were the only sound that broke the silence in the room.

Erik slipped into bed and quickly wrapped one arm around Charles, pulling the sheets loose with the other, murmuring nonsense into Charles' ear as he went.

"Shhh. Liebling, you're dreaming."

Charles struggled, kicking and jerking away from Erik's grasp. Erik kept his hold gentle, but firm, keeping Charles safely within the circle of his embrace. He brushed Charles’ hair out of his eyes and tucked the younger man’s head under his chin, keeping up a stream of German endearments as he shifted himself closer.

"Come on, Charles. Wake up."

Erik let his hand run down Charles' arm, and then brought it back up to his cheek. His eyes wandered over Charles troubled face as his eyelids began to open.

"Erik?" Charles' sleep filled voice finally responded.

"Yes, liebling. I'm here."

"I thought…it was…" Charles body shuddered, "Sometime I have nightmares."

Charles sounded as though he had just confessed a horrible secret. Erik imagined, given their earlier conversation, that Charles had quite a few things to have nightmares about, giving his years spent with Cain and Kurt. Nightmares were hardly something he needed to be ashamed of.

"I do too." Erik confessed in return.

Charles’ body relaxed slightly at Erik’s words and he cautiously leaned back into Erik’s body. Erik kissed the top of Charles’ head once more, as they both shifted, curving around each other, until Charles’ breathing returned to a slow and steady rhythm.

"Will you stay? With me?"

Erik hated how small Charles' voice sounded – as if he had never had anyone who'd said 'yes' when he'd asked the same question in the past. Erik mentally cursed the whole Xavier/Marko household. Sharon Xavier for being a cold hearted bitch who seemed to have no interest in her son. Kurt Marko for trying to mold Charles into a ‘man’ by intimidation and threats. Cain Marko for using his fists on a younger, smaller target, just because he could. For years Charles had had no one but Raven for emotional support and he had spent most of their relationship caring and protecting her, not receiving the same type of treatment in return.

"Of course." Erik rubbed his thumb along the ridge of Charles' knuckles. "It's almost dawn. Would you like to go up to the roof and watch the sunrise? It's quite spectacular."

Charles turned his head and beamed up at him.

"Yes. Yes I would."

* * *

Having never been in a romantic relationship, Charles couldn't say how a relationship was supposed to work, or what one was supposed to do once in a relationship. However, so far, he'd decided that relationships were delightful. They changed everything and, yet, nothing at all.

Relationships involved meeting Erik at his office every morning and having a quick snog. It somehow made getting to school at 8am perfectly acceptable. Erik always had a lunch packed up for him every morning and Charles had protested at first, but Erik had countered quickly. 

“Charles you told me outright your budgeting plan to get Raven to Paris involves you not eating three meals a day. You will not accept money from me for your sister's trip, so you will accept lunch. Take the food.”

How could he possibly say no? The food, as expected, was delicious. Hank had started giving him the side eye in the lab because Charles just could not help moaning over everything Erik cooked. He really needed to learn to stop the noises when not in Erik's company.

Relationships meant getting texts from Erik every day to make sure he'd gotten home safe. And occasionally to interrogate him about whether his landlord had actually made repairs to the building. Charles had been happy to report that the rotten stair had been fixed. Although he hadn’t had the heart to tell Erik it had been a hastily done job that had survived two days before an unsuspecting delivery man had broken through the cheap plywood replacement board.

Relationships meant Erik sitting down with him as often as possible and asking Charles about his telepathy and letting him touch Erik's mind. Mostly only very lightly, skimming surface thoughts and generally basking in the glow of Erik, who had a mind unlike any other. Charles found it hard to trust this new aspect of their relationship at times – the fear of being rejected once again was strong. But Erik persisted. He never pulled away. He never accused Charles of taking something he shouldn’t have, or looking for something that was off limits. He just opened himself up and in return Charles did his best to teach Erik how to shield himself – how to protect the things he wanted to keep to himself.

Relationships also involved working at Erik's office in the exact same way as before. He still screened students. He still ran over to the library to do more research on the Clarke case when things were slow, hoping against hope to find something that might be helpful. They still played chess after the last student left and the games were as competitive as ever.

Relationships also involved younger sisters giving you disgusted looks and rolling their eyes at you when you talked about your boyfriend too much.

"Are you even really dating, Charles? Are you 'in a relationship', like Facebook official type thing? Or are you just some student he's fucking?" 

"Raven, language!" Charles had reprimanded, as his face filled with heat. "Of course we're in a relationship."

"Has HE said that?" Raven asked pointedly. "Well, Charles? Has he?"

Raven did have a point. He and Erik had not spoken about what 'they' were. They just…were. They'd never had any sort of discussion about it. They both knew that they couldn't flaunt their newfound affection for one another – there was no holding hands while walking across the quad, or going on romantic dates at restaurants close to campus. They had to be discrete. There were times when the secrecy chaffed a bit, but Charles found he ultimately didn't care. The next school year he could find a new job on campus and Erik wouldn't be his boss, or his professor and there would be nothing to hold them back, nothing at all.

Relationships also meant that after Erik officially submitted the complaint against Clarke, Charles had gone out and bought a ridiculous amount of Kebabs and chips and shown up unannounced at Erik's door on a Friday night. He had a smile on his face and nervous flutters in his stomach. For all that Charles was certain they were in a relationship and had been for the past two weeks, this was the first time he'd been to Erik's house, alone (not even a Skype call from Edie to interrupt) since he'd stayed the night. And Charles may, or may not have worked himself into a slightly frantic state by reading more helpful tips about fellatio that he fully intended to put to good use tonight.

Boyfriends showed up unexpectedly at each other’s flats, right? Especially if they intended to celebrate with food and sex – that sounded like a normal thing to do.

Charles nodded to himself, trying to feel confident. He and Erik were in a relationship. He was doing normal relationship things. It was completely fine for him to lift his hand and knock on the door. Completely fine.

* * *

Erik let the hot water of the shower wash over him and hoped it might release some of the weariness he felt in his muscles. The past two weeks had been brutal and exhausting. They had also been euphoric.

Erik was exhausted because he’d spent the past two weeks pushing with every ounce of his ability to finish compiling the complaint against Clarke and officially submit it to the Oxford Review Board. It might seem to others like a rush job. But Erik knew better: it was a necessity. Like any university, Oxford was akin to a small town and rumours spread like wildfire in small towns. Although Erik had been glad to have so many students share their stories of intimidation and expand the joint complaints, with each added student who was aware of the complaint, the greater the chance their secrecy would end. Someone would say something. And that something would get passed along to someone else and before you knew it, Professor Clarke would know about the complaint. If he knew, he would have time to mount a defence. He would have time to attempt bribery and coercion. He would have time to kill the complaint before it ever got off the ground. It had been imperative that Erik get the complaint filed as quickly as possible. 

To succeed, Erik had been working until late at night, seldom making it home, except to collapse on his bed for a couple hours before he’d be up and at it again in the morning. Erik had pushed. It wasn’t something he’d never done before, but it had been several years. Since before he and Magda had split.

Erik sighed. He stood stock still under the shower head, letting water hit his face in a steady rhythm. Some of his tension was slowly bleeding out of his body, but he still felt years older than usual.

For all that the past two weeks had been difficult, they had also been a revelation. Moira had been right – he was good at this. He did care. He wanted to wipe scum like Clarke out of the system, to push them out of positions of power and allow mutants to flourish at Oxford. It was the right thing to do. Not to mention if they did succeed in having Clarke disciplined, or fired, their case would set a precedent at Oxford, and possibly across the UK for years to come. That type of victory would change the lives of countless mutants. The whole thing had lit a fire inside Erik he hadn’t felt for years. Handing that stack of papers, all 289 pages of them, over to Bernice at the Oxford Review Board office had been a relief and a pleasure. Now, it was all out of their hands.

Of course, the other change in the past two weeks had been Charles. Charles his...boyfriend? Partner? None of these words seemed to accurately describe how Erik felt about Charles. Whatever they were, Erik found himself thinking of Charles and just wanting. Wanting more time with him. Wanting to touch him in public and show the world that they were together. Wanting to kiss him. Wanting to see him spread out, naked and begging, in Erik’s bed. Wanting to ask him to move in with him. Fuck, he could even bring his annoying sister with him, Erik didn’t care. He just wanted Charles. All the time.

Just thinking about Charles made Erik’s cock leap to attention – now standing half mast, just as it did every morning when Charles kissed him in his office. The water was starting to cool off, and Erik momentarily debated the merits of jacking off in the shower thinking about Charles; his lips, his eyes, his compact body, all of it seemingly made to drive Erik wild with lust. 

His fantasies however, were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone on the counter top near the sink. As Erik stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel, he was again disrupted before he could even check his phone by an insistent knocking at his door.

“Shit.” Erik muttered as he strode through his apartment, pulling up a pair of sweat pants and slinging his towel around his shoulders. “Fuck. I’m coming,” He yelled. “Stop fucking knocking!”

Whoever was at the door better have a good reason to be there, Erik thought. He’d just been about to wank in the shower and his dick was still half hard and very obvious in his sweatpants. He was not in the mood to talk to strangers. If this was some delivery boy at the wrong flat, he was going to lose his shit.

Erik wrenched the door open, careful to keep his erection out of sight.

“Charles?” Erik stuttered, completely shocked to find the young man at his door. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a thing at Raven’s school?”

“I thought I did too. Apparently the ‘thing’ was a five minute phone call with Raven’s art teacher about trying to curb Raven’s habit of only drawing nudes. They really want her to expand her horizons, so to speak.”

Erik stared and said nothing. He’d wanted Charles to be here and now he was. He was doing that thing where he started talking and couldn’t seem to stop, which Erik found adorable. As Charles spoke, Erik let himself take in the sight before him: the big blue eyes, those freckles on Charles nose. Charles continued to ramble on, something about Kebabs and wanting to surprise Erik. Well, he had certainly succeeded in the being surprising. It took a moment, but Erik eventually realized that Charles was covered in a dusting of snow and shivering as he spoke.

“You’re cold.” Erik interjected belatedly. “Come inside, let’s get you someplace warm.”

Erik grabbed the bags Charles had been holding and walked over to put them in his kitchen. When he returned to Charles, he found him snuggled up on his couch, ensconced in a blanket, his body pulled into a tight ball. Charles peered at him as Erik joined him on the couch, smiling shyly. Erik felt his cock twitch- just having Charles here, in his home, was arousing.

“I interrupted something.” Charles said softly.

“I was in the shower.” Erik replied. “It’s not a problem. I’m glad you’re here.”

Erik was confused by Charles in that moment: he obviously wanted to be here, he’d come over with the sweet intention of celebrating with Erik and he’d brought food. But now, he wasn’t even looking Erik in the eye. Was he nervous? Or shy? Did he regret coming? Why was he staring at his hands?

“I didn’t interrupt anything else?” Charles asked, again not looking at Erik.

“No.” Erik replied abruptly, feeling confused and off balance.

What was Charles trying to say? Why did he have to bite his bottom lip like that – it was ratcheting up Erik’s sexual frustration to a point where he wasn’t sure if he could hold it in much longer. Poor Charles was going to get pounced on if he didn’t stop that. Oh fuck, now he was licking it. Erik groaned internally.

“Hmmm. I thought I might have.” Charles voice sounded husky and almost as aroused as Erik felt.

Charles finally lifted his eyes up to meet Erik’s, but quickly dropped them back down, staring at his hands again. No, wait, not his hands, Erik realized. No Charles was staring at him and given his eye line, he was staring at Erik’s crotch. Oh! Erik took a quick peek down and sure enough his erection was tenting the fabric of his loose sweat pants rather obscenely.

Erik’s thought’s raced, now flooded with anticipation. Charles’ eyes were glued to his cock and he was licking his lips and he sounded aroused and…and Charles wanted him. Erik suddenly grinned.

“See something you like Charles?” Erik smirked, now completely at ease with the situation.

Charles nodded. And then bit his lip again, slowly raising his eyes to meet Erik’s gaze. Erik let out a loud breath when he finally got a good look at Charles’ face: his lips so bright from all the biting and licking, his cheeks flushed, his pupils completely blown. Erik moaned softly and shifted on the couch, moving his legs until one foot was planted on the floor, his other leg stretched out along the back of the couch. The movement brought Charles’ eyes back to his crotch, a result which pleased Erik greatly.

“Can I…?” Charles stopped and swallowed loudly, not able to finish his question.

“You can do whatever you want Charles.”

Erik knew what he was saying, what he was inviting Charles to do. But he hadn’t expected Charles to launch himself off the couch and onto the floor, kneeling in front of Erik, his head perfectly lined up with Erik’s crotch. When Charles proceed to lean forward and rub his cheek against the bulge in Erik’s sweatpants, Erik decided he was never, ever going to underestimate Charles again. Raven might have implied he was inexperienced, but virginal he was not.

Charles hummed as he moved his cheek up and down, eyes closed, his mouth upturned in a gentle smile. If Erik had ever seen anything that turned him on more, he certainly couldn’t have named it in that moment.

“You smell so good.” Charles purred.

“Fuck, you’re killing me Charles.” Erik growled. “Take my damn pants off.”

“So pushy.” Charles smirked, as he hooked his thumbs under the elastic waist of Erik’s sweat pants and pulled them down.

Crouched on the floor, face in line with Erik’s fully erect penis, Charles wasn’t smirking any more. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his hands were restless at his sides, as if he had on idea what to do with them. Erik had a moment to wonder if he should ask Charles if he’d ever done this before, when Charles tentatively stuck out his tongue and licked Erik’s shaft from base to tip.

“Fuuuuuck.” Erik gasped, gripping the couch cushions to keep himself from moving.

Charles repeated the long, wet stripe up Erik’s cock once more and swirled his tongue around the red, swollen head. Charles leaned back, wrapping his palm around the base of Erik’s cock, before he crept closer, wedging himself right between Erik’s thighs. Just when Erik thought he couldn’t wait a second longer for Charles' mouth, Charles dipped his head forward and wrapped his lips around the head of Erik’s dick.

It was clear to Erik once Charles got his mouth around his cock, that he didn’t have much experience with blow jobs. Charles struggled to make his hand and his mouth work together, he had to pull off frequently to catch his breath, and he gagged several times trying to take too much too fast. Erik did not care one bit. He suddenly had a great appreciation for the phrase: what he lacked in skill, he made up for with enthusiasm. Because, dear god, Charles was enthusiastic: he licked, kissed, and explored every inch of Erik’s considerable length and he showed no signs of slowing down. Erik found himself mesmerized watching Charles red lips stretch over him as Charles tried again and again to take more of him in his mouth.

Erik reached out gently to touch Charles hair, carding his fingers into the thick strands and caressing Charles scalp. Charles looked up at him through his lashes and hummed around Erik’s cock, sending a thrill of primal pleasure down Erik’s spine.

Erik tugged gently, but firmly on Charles’ hair until the younger man popped his mouth free and looked up at Erik, panting and flushed with exertion. Erik swiped a finger across the corner of Charles’ mouth and then traced his way down and over Charles plump bottom lip.

“Is it good?” Charles asked, his voice at once vulnerable and yet seductive. 

“Hmmm.” Erik murmured, unable to find the words to describe how incredibly hot it was to watch Charles’ mouth envelope his cock.

“I like it.” Charles continued shyly. “I knew I would. You’re so big and you taste so good. I could just keep you in my mouth for days.”

“Fuck, Charles.” Erik muttered. “If you keep talking like that I’ll...”

Charles leaned forward and licked the tip of Erik’s cock once, so lightly it almost tickled.

“You’ll what, Erik?” Another lick. “What would happen?” A quick, hard suck on the head, tongue swirling around as Charles slowly took more into his mouth.

_“If I keep doing this,”_ Charles voice sounded softly in his mind, as Erik’s cock hit the back of his throat and Charles hummed with pleasure, _“would you come, Erik? Could I make you come like this?”_

“That,” Erik panted, as Charles started bobbing his head up and down, now completely in time with his hand as it gripped the base of Erik’s shaft. “is not fair – talking dirty with a cock in your mouth.”

_“Would you like me to stop, Erik? I could stop...”_ Even in his mind, Charles voice sounded cocky and teasing.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.” 

Erik gripped Charles’ hair harder, trying not to hurt, but using it to anchor himself, keeping his thrusts small and manageable for Charles. He was so close to the edge, and trying desperately to hold off, to make this moment last as long as possible. Erik let himself take it the scene before him: Charles lips stretched obscenely around his cock, the spit that dribbled down his chin, the deep blue eyes that looked up at him through Charles’ thick, dark lashes. 

_“Are you close Erik?”_ Charles voice whispered. _“Are you going to come? I want you to come. I want to taste you.”_

“You have the dirtiest mouth. Perfect fucking mouth.” Erik gasped out, losing his ability for coherent words.

Erik had received blow jobs before – mostly fast and desperate. Just him and a virtual stranger finding a moment of release together and then never seeing each other again. This was nothing like that. Erik wanted to have this with Charles over and over again. He wanted to be able to sink to his knees and give Charles the same treatment in return. He wanted to be able to spend a whole weekend with Charles naked in his bedroom – he wanted to act out every sexual fantasy he’d ever had and do nothing but touch Charles, whenever and however he wanted.

That thought, of worshipping Charles and making him his, combined with Charles sucking harder, his cheeks hollowing out with effort, was enough to push Erik over the edge.

“Coming...” He managed to bite out and Charles quickly pulled back, taking his mouth off Erik, while his hand keep pumping fast and aggressive.

Erik clenched his teeth and moaned as he came, spurting over his chest and belly as Charles watched, blue eyes wide in fascination. Erik closed his eyes as he sagged back onto the couch, leaning his head back while he ran his hand through Charles’ hair. He started slightly when he felt fingers dancing along his belly. He opened his eyes and found Charles running his fingers through the come on his stomach. Charles then brought his come soaked fingers up to his mouth and licked them off, his eyes fluttering closed as he hummed with pleasure. Erik was sure, if it had been at all possible, that he could have come again from that sight alone.

Charles must have noticed his expression and misread it, because he was immediately apologetic.

“I just...I wondered what you tasted like, but I was afraid if you came in my mouth I would...that I wouldn’t be able to...” Charles floundered, his cheeks flaming red.

“Shhh. Don’t apologize – that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Erik declared, meaning every word. “And we have lots of time to practice anything else. There’s no rush Charles.” Erik stroked Charles cheek. “Come here, let me do something for you.” Erik offered.

“Oh, ah.” Charles stood gingerly. “That’s actually...you don’t have to do anything. I, er...”

Erik glanced down at Charles pants, he was wearing his typical too big khakis tonight, and given the dark spot on the front it was clear what Charles was getting at – he had already come in his pants.

“I just...I really wanted to have you in my mouth.” Charles finished timidly.

“Come here.” Erik said, sitting up and pulling Charles toward him by the hand. “Let’s get you out of those.”

Between the two of them, they divested Charles of his clothes swiftly. Erik could see how Charles flushed red form the tips of his ears to the tops of his shoulders. This was the first time they had been completely naked in front of each other. Erik took a moment to look his fill at Charles’ pale, compact body – the freckles, the lean lines of his torso, the swell of his ass – before he smiled softly up at Charles. Hoping to reassure Charles and put them on equal ground, Erik kicked off his sweat pants, which were still attached to one ankle, and then pulled Charles down on top of him. He wrapped them both up in his cosy flannel throw blanket. It was barely big enough to make it around them both and it didn’t begin to cover Erik’s feet, but he didn’t care. He had Charles in his arms. He buried his head in Charles hair and closed his eyes. This was it. This was what Erik had been yearning for the past two weeks. Now, laying on the couch with Charles, Erik found he didn’t want anything more – he finally had everything he needed.

* * *

Moira knew Erik wasn’t the biggest fan of unexpected visitors. But tonight was going to have to be an exception. She’d been getting ready for a date – her first in months – when Erik had texted her with the good news about submitting the complaint against Clarke. She’d honestly been stunned at how quickly Erik had gotten everything organized. Erik really was incredibly efficient and dedicated to his work.

Once her date had ended in a steaming pile of ‘oh god could this man be anymore self-absorbed’, Moira had made a quick decision to come celebrate with Erik instead. She fumbled a bit with her overstuffed key chain, finally finding Erik’s spare key and slotting it into the lock.

Striding into Erik’s flat with a bottle of champagne and her a box of her favourite sweets from Gatineau under her arm, Moira announced her presence.

“Lehnsherr you are not going to believe the date I just had – he was the most arrogant, narcissistic bastard I have had the displeasure of...” Moira lurched to a halt, almost dropping the champagne. “What the FUCK is going on here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that there was a bit of a delay posting this chapter. My focus was on my Big Bang fic most of this past week.
> 
> As of now, this is the only WIP I have though, so hopefully I can actually focus on this one for a while.
> 
> Thank you again for reading and for all your comments and kudos. Seriously comments are like ambrosia - they sustain me.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira, Charles and Erik talk.

**Chapter 12**

Charles was shaking, half in terror, and half with hysterical mostly suppressed laughter. Two minutes ago he had been in a state of relaxed blissfulness. Now, he wasn’t. If Erik’s arms hadn’t been holding him tight and close, Charles was almost certain he would have fallen on the floor in a heap the moment Moira had walked through the door. As it was, he had his face buried in Erik’s neck, as he quickly and efficiently built tight shields around his telepathy until he could barely sense anything at all from Moira, or even Erik. Once done, he burrowed more deeply into Erik and decided he had no intention of moving anytime soon.

“I repeat, what the fuck is going on here?” Moira’s voice rang out into the room.

“Calm the fuck down Moira.” Erik answered, voice much calmer than Charles could ever had managed. “You’re scaring Charles.”

Charles snorted into Erik’s neck in response, another wave of uncontrolled shivers running through his body. His Professor, his Phd advisor, had just walked on him in flagrante delicto and Charles’ brain just couldn’t seem to process what was happening. Although, on the bright side, at least Moira hadn’t arrived ten minutes earlier. Charles couldn’t contain a broken whimper at the thought of his academic advisor walking in on him with a cock in his mouth.

“Shhh. Liebling, shhh.” Erik murmured into his ear, running a hand down his back, in a valiant attempt to sooth Charles’ tense muscles.

“You...you...’ Moira sputtered. “How can I calm down, Erik? You are...you’re canoodling! With Charles!”

“Yeah. And you just barged into my apartment unannounced. Maybe you should leave. I’m obviously busy.” Erik grumbled.

“I am not leaving!” Moira cried. “I am staying until I have an explanation for...this.” 

“Oh bollocks.” Charles whispered into Erik’s shoulder.

He knew that voice – it was Moira’s angry teacher voice. She didn’t pull it out that often, at least not in Charles’ experience, but when she did...well it just wasn’t worth fighting her. Moira was stubborn and patient and she would not back down. Erik kissed his head softly.

“Fine. Go hide in the kitchen.” Erik instructed.

“I will not -”

“We’re fucking naked Moira. Go in the kitchen.” Erik rolled his eyes as Charles peeked up at him, unable to keep a slight smile off his lips.

Moira stomped off, muttering as she went. Charles felt Erik huff out a breath as he shifted himself up and raised his head. They stared at each other for a minute, silent and still.

“This is going to be fine, Charles. Okay? It’s going to be fine.” Erik assured him.

Erik, Charles decided, was completely insane. Nothing about this was ‘fine’. He’d always known their relationship was a bit unconventional and that some people might not receive the news well. He’d just thought he and Erik might have had some time to talk about how they were going to reveal their relationship to their friends and colleagues, not be exposed so suddenly like this. Charles hadn’t even had a chance to ask Erik if they really were, as Charles certainly felt they were, in a relationship. With his shields up and fully fortified, Charles now had no clue what Erik was thinking and with Moira so close by, he had no intention of dropping them to find out. It was likely going to be a very long and frustrating evening.

By the time Erik had shifted to grab his sweat pants and stood fluidly to put them back on, Moira was back.

“You cannot expect me to just stay in the kitchen. You’re...cavorting with a student!” Moira exclaimed, arms waving.

“Could you at least let -” Erik began.

“NO!” Moira shouted. “No more waiting. This -” Moira gestured between Erik, who stood tall and proud in the living room and Charles, sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket, head and feet sticking out. “is unacceptable. You are taking advantage of a student.”

“Am I taking advantage of you Charles?” Erik asked, arms crossed over his chest, staring directly at Moira.

“No.” Charles replied, surprising himself with his audacity. “I dare say I might have been taking advantage of you earlier this evening.”

“Oh, agree – I was completely at your mercy.” 

Charles felt himself flush as Erik smirked back at him, images from earlier that evening flooding his thoughts.

“This is not a joke.” Moira protested. “Charles is a student. A student.”

“And I’m not his professor.” Erik countered. “The code of Ethics has a clear policy regarding Professors or TA’s having relationships with their students. The policy for other university employees having relationships with students is non-existent. We’re not violating any university rules. Calm down.”

“And what about that guy? The guy you were telling me about the other day who you were going to introduce to your mother? Does Charles know about him? Hmm?” Moira accused, an oddly triumphant look on her face.

“For fuck’s sake, Charles is the guy, Moira!” Erik shouted back.

“But he...but you were mooning over him.”

“Yes. I was mooning over Charles, my boyfriend, whom I introduced to my mother. I fail to see what’s so confusing about all this.”

“Oh.” Charles exclaimed with a dreamy sigh. “Did you just call me your boyfriend?”

Erik turned with a frown. “Of course I did, liebling.”

Charles stood, blanket wrapped as securely around himself as he could manage, and launched himself at Erik. A feeling of uncontainable joy had suffused his entire body and he simply could not contain himself – Moira’s presence be damned. With his arms slung around Erik’s neck and Erik’s arms holding the now drooping blanket in place, Charles lifted his lips to Erik’s ear. 

“You are the sweetest man.”

“I think 99% of the population would disagree with you.” 

“They’re wrong.” Charles smiled joyfully. “Boyfriend.”

“Oh my god I’m going to vomit.” Moira declared. “Charles you’re about two seconds away from showing me your ass. Please go put some clothes on. I’m going to go open the champagne. I need a drink.”

Charles had no difficulty ignoring Moira’s continued muttering. He was far too busy giving Erik open mouthed, sloppy kisses. Everything suddenly felt absolutely perfect. He supposed she was right though, he did have to get dressed, eventually.

* * *

It could have been worse. Erik repeated this mantra to himself over and over as he sat across from Moira and waited for Charles to come back from getting dressed in his bedroom.

It could have been worse. Moira could have arrived in the middle of the truly sublime blow job Charles had given him. Or she could have arrived before Charles had shown up at his door and he wouldn’t ever have gotten the blow job at all. He shuddered at the thought.

Moira glared at him. 

“If you think I’m done talking about this, you’re crazy.” She hissed.

“If you think I care about your hang ups, then you don’t know a thing about me.” Erik replied. “I don’t have to justify my relationship to you or anyone else. The only person that I care about in this scenario, is Charles. So back the fuck off.”

“I cannot believe I sent one of my students to work for you – someone who needed financial help by the way- and this is what happened.”

“I am not some lecherous old man preying on students, Moira. If you’d sent anyone else my way, nothing would have happened – you know that. Charles is...Charles is different.” 

Moira continued to glare.

“I never expected anything like this to happen, Moira.” Erik confessed. 

Moira shifted in her seat and sighed heavily. She reached for her glass and took a long, deep drink. Erik turned his head at the sound of the door closing behind him and watched Charles walk towards him dressed in a grey sweatsuit that was obviously too big for his small frame. He stopped beside the table, but didn’t sit down, rather he rocked on his heels looking at both Erik and Moira before giving them both a tentative smile.

“I brought some kebabs with me earlier. We, ah, didn’t have time to eat them. But I could heat them up now if anyone is hungry? I’m quite famished myself.”

Erik enjoyed watching the flush of Charles cheeks as he spoke and the way he bit his lip when he finished talking, obviously unsure of himself. He also admired him for his valiant attempt at polite hosting in the face of the shit-show the evening had become after Moira’s arrival. Charles might appear soft at first glance, but inside there was pure steely strength that would not break.

“Thank you, Charles. That would be lovely.” Moira replied. 

Her tone was too formal and stiff, but Charles beamed nonetheless.

“Excellent.” He exclaimed and then trotted off into the kitchen.

Erik was about to rip into Moira again – Charles was not the enemy and if she couldn’t bring herself to treat him with the same respect and affection she usually did, then Erik had no qualms about kicking her ass out of his flat.

“I can just put this whole thing in the microwave, right Erik?” Charles voice called out from the kitchen.

“Shit. No, Charles. Just hang on a sec.” Erik stood up immediately to help Charles. “He’s hopeless in the kitchen.” He added as an explanation to Moira before he fled from the room.

Erik walked quickly into the kitchen and stopped Charles from microwaving styrofoam and ruining their dinner.

“This isn’t exactly five star cooking.” Charles frowned. “Chips are never all that good re-heated.”

If he was honest, Erik thought re-heated chips tasted like sawdust, but he was not going to say anything that made Charles feel worse. He moved closer to Charles, lightly wrapping his arms around him and leaned down so their faces were only inches apart.

“Listen,” Erik said as the plate swirled around in the microwave. “It doesn’t matter if the food is shit, okay?” Charles nodded slightly. “We’re going to take the food in there and eat the kebabs and the pastries Moira brought and drink the champagne. And then I’m going to get her out of here and I’m going to take you to bed.”

“To bed?” Charles whispered. “Very presumptuous of you to think I’m spending the night.”

“Don’t tease me Charles.” Erik growled. “Two weeks without you here with me has been torture.”

“I hardly think I’m to blame for that.”

“No, you’re not.” Erik sighed. “Say you’ll stay with me tonight?” He asked, brushing his lips against Charles’ own softly.

“I can stay.” Charles kissed the side of his mouth softly.

The beep of the microwave startled them both and they jumped apart instantly. Charles chuckled, while Erik groaned. Back to reality. Back to Moira and her disapproval. He could not wait to get this dinner over with and be alone with Charles again. Erik quickly removed the food from the microwave and walked back to the dining room. The faster they got this meal started, the faster it would be over.

* * *

Moira sat on the couch in her own apartment and tried her best to retain some semblance of the righteous indignation she’d felt earlier in the evening. Seeing Erik and Charles together had been the shock of her life and she had reacted on pure instinct. She’d wanted to protect Charles AND Erik and the obvious solution was to tear them apart – immediately. Not surprisingly, Erik had quashed that plan instantaneously.

Now, after some time to herself, Moira was able to admit she had been wrong. Her initial thought that Erik and Charles together was a total disaster appeared to be unfounded.

During the odd makeshift dinner, Charles had made Erik smile – multiple times. Erik in turn had been unable to keep his hands off Charles, touching his back, brushing his hand, never inappropriate, just constantly drawn to the younger man. Moira could honestly say she’d been shocked at the difference in her friend. Tonight, Erik had shown a softness Moira had long suspected Erik had, but she’d never had the good fortune to see. 

There had been a moment – an odd moment if Moira was honest – when Charles had been standing, collecting everyone’s plates, joking about how he was quite adept at doing dishes, which made up for his inability to cook anything and Erik had been smiling at him fondly. Then, Moira had noticed a small red dot on Charles’ face.

“Charles, you’re bleeding.” She’d exclaimed, surprised and concerned.

“Oh,” Charles had wiped at his nose quickly with his free hand. “My apologies, I ah, I just need a moment.”

Moira had watched Charles scurry into the kitchen. Turning to Erik, she’d been quite shocked to see him looking pale and slightly green, as if he was nauseous. Just when Moira had been pondering whether Erik had ever mentioned not liking the sight of blood, he’d abruptly push his chair back from the table and followed Charles into the kitchen.

Although she hadn’t been able to hear what they were saying, the tenor of their voices was strained. Erik sounded almost frantic, while Charles’ voice remained calm, obviously trying to soothe Erik’s frazzled nerves. It had been an unexpected role reversal. Suddenly Moira had felt she’d been intruding, as if she was peeking in the window and seeing an intimate moment between strangers. Moira’s natural need to know everything had warred with a sudden and overwhelming need to leave and give Erik and Charles some privacy. She may have been worried – she was still worried about this new relationship – but everything she’d seen so far indicated that Charles was good for Erik, and hopefully Erik was going to be good for Charles in return.

Moira had decided to leave, although not without making brief eye contact with Erik through the doorway to the kitchen. She’d wanted him to understand they had more to talk about. Erik had met her eyes over Charles’ head, which he had tipped back as he gently pressed a cloth to the younger man’s nose. Moira gave him a nod and received one in return: it was a tentative truce and a silence agreement to talk later. After years of friendship, sometimes they didn’t need words. 

All her doubts had not been eased, of course. She still had a laundry list of items to talk to Erik about, not to mention a burning desire to get Charles alone and interrogate him as well. Moira stared thoughtfully out her window. It was obviously true what they said – love finds you when you least expect it. Now if only she could stumble into her true love.

* * *

Charles could feel Erik’s scrutiny from across the chess board. After his nosebleed and Moira’s departure, he’d suggested a game and Erik had nodded and gone to fetch the board. Though Erik may have agreed to the game, it was clear his mind was not on the action. Since they’d sat down on the living room floor, Erik had been fidgety, shifting positions every few minutes and flicking his eyes over Charles face as if afraid he might disappear at any moment.  
Charles knew he was going to win this game handily. Erik had been far too distracted to employ any sort of consistent strategy and though the chaotic nature of his play had put Charles off his own strategy for a while, his path to victory was now perfectly clear.

“Check.”

Erik frowned down at the board as if he was seeing it for the first time. Charles knew what was there and it wasn’t pretty. After a moments contemplation, Erik tipped over his king conceding the game.

“Rematch?”

“I really don’t see the point, my friend.” Charles began collecting pieces and Erik mirrored his movements. “It’s still bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s bothering me!” Erik snapped. “You were bleeding in my kitchen.”

“A nose bleed Erik. Not a fatal wound.”

“A nose bleed you didn’t want to talk about at all! I was – I am- worried you’re going to collapse on me again, but you just want to pretend everything is fine and play games.”

“I get nose bleeds sometimes. Obviously a drawback of having a large -”

“Cut the bullshit Charles. The self deprecating jokes might work on Moira, or some other gullible idiot, but they don’t work on me.” Erik cut in, his voice hard and cold. “This is about your telepathy, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” 

“You’re just going to keep lying to me.” Erik’s voice was icy cold, his expression furious. “I thought we were being honest about our mutations, Charles?”

“I have been honest -”

“But not now.” 

Erik picked up the chess set, walked across the room to put in away, slamming the cupboard shut loudly. Charles found himself standing as Erik turned and paced toward him, his anger clear in every step.

“Is it so hard to understand that I might want to keep this to myself?” Charles cried. “Am I just supposed to be happily confessing to you? ‘Oh Erik, by the way, I’m such a weakling that I get nose bleeds from shielding. Don’t worry darling, I only pass out every once in a while. Aren’t you so proud of me?’”

“You’re not weak. You’re hiding.”

“Out of necessity! I can’t let Moira know about my telepathy. I can’t let anyone know. So I hide. I keep it contained. I can’t risk letting my telepathy flow freely and treating people differently because I know what they’re thinking, as well as what they’re saying. I can’t risk the possibility that I’ll accidentally project my pleasure, or my pain to others. I’m one slip away from getting kicked out of England! Surely you understand that? Or would you prefer I do get deported? That would be better wouldn’t it, never having to see me again? Never having to pick up the pieces of my mess.”

“I’d prefer you stop denying who you really are! You shouldn’t have to hide Charles. Mutants shouldn’t have to hide, to pretend they’re something they’re not. If you didn’t have to hide there wouldn’t be a mess to pick up!” 

Erik’s chest was heaving with his anger and his face was flushed. For a moment silence reigned. Charles felt as if he was adrift at sea, alone and hopeless.  
Erik broke the spell and stepped close, grabbing Charles and pulling him close. 

“I never want to hear you say I don’t want you here.” Erik whispered raggedly into his ear. “I want you here Charles. I want you beside me, inside me, so close that I forget where I end and you begin. I want you. All of you.”

Erik’s head bent low and he brushed his lips across the lobe of Charles’ ear, nipping sharply and then licking soothingly.

“Erik.” Charles moaned.

“I don’t want you to shield Charles. Come inside me, please. I want to feel you in my mind.” Erik sucked firmly at Charles’ neck and Charles whimpered.  
“Come on, Charles.” Erik encouraged. “Let me feel you.”

Charles hesitated, but even with his shields in place he could feel Erik’s determination, his desire to have Charles closer, to have Charles inside his mind. Charles pulled himself back from Erik, just far enough to dislodge Erik’s lips from his skin. Just far enough to catch his breath and calm his nerves before he started slowly, carefully deconstructing his shields. He placed his fingers delicately on Erik’s temples and carefully extended his telepathy outward, enveloping Erik’s mind with his power.

His first impression, as always, was the bright orderliness of Erik’s mind, which had attracted Charles so very much the first time they met. Today Erik’s thoughts were stormy, full of unexpressed thoughts and emotions. Without even venturing far beyond surface thoughts, Charles could see Erik’s vivid memory of the night he had collapsed replaying on a loop in the other man’s mind.

“Oh Erik,” Charles murmured, leaning back to look Erik in the eye. “That’s not going to happen again. Not tonight.”

“But it could, someday.” 

“Yes.” Charles admits. 

It wouldn’t do any good to lie, not now, not to Erik. Charles can feel Erik huff in frustration.

“I’ll drop it,” Erik muttered. “For now.” He glared at Charles over the short distance between them.

“I can...calm your mind if you want. Push those memories to the back of your mind and take the edge of, so to speak.” Charles offered.

“No.” Erik refused immediately. 

The silence stretched and Charles waited, focusing once again on Erik’s mind, the swirl of his emotions that surround the complex labyrinth that contains inner most thoughts, memories, and identity. Charles could feel Erik sorting through his thoughts, trying to decide what to do next, what to say. His mind glimmered in places as he did and Charles smiled at the pleasure of being inside someone’s mind again – such an intimate experience that he has seldom had the chance to indulge in.

“Can you teach me?” Erik’s voice final broke the silence. “Can you teach me how to...talk to you, telepathically?”

Charles watched as a vivid image of himself on his knees between Erik’s thighs from earlier that evening flashed through Erik’s mind. 

“I could. Although it would be much easier if you didn’t keep thinking about my mouth on your cock.” Charles replied with a chuckle.

“It was a memorable moment.” Erik deadpanned in return and Charles can’t suppress a smirk.

After taking a moment to compose himself and when he felt Erik’s mind clear of any residual sexually charged memories, Charles refocused himself and began his lesson.

“I haven’t done this with anyone in quite some time.” Charles explained. “Raven and I were children when we used to do this, my memory of teaching her is rather vague.”

“Do I just think about what I want to say?”

“Yes, but also, you need to clear your mind of other things. To isolate what you want me to hear, so it doesn’t get lost or muddled. It might be best to start with one word, or a short phrase.” Charles suggested.

_“Hello Charles.”_

Erik’s mental voice rang through Charles mind like the gong of an angry church bell. Charles couldn’t help his physical reaction -he flinched away from Erik instinctively.

“That was...a bit loud.” Charles gritted out, the echoes of Erik’s words still ringing in his head. A strong wave of exhaustion washed over him, but Charles stubbornly tamped it down. “You were very clear – that’s excellent – but you don’t need to shout. Speaking mind to mind is much more akin to whispering in someone’s ear than hollering across a room.”

_“Hello Charles.”_

This time Erik’s words were tentative and sweet. Charles did not hold back as he projected his pleasure while he responded in turn. _“Hello Erik.”_

“Is that you?” Erik asked aloud, incredulous. “Are you making me feel that...warmth?” 

“Yes.” Charles confirmed. “I’m projecting my feelings. Not to influence you in any way, but to share. To share how utterly happy I am.”

_“Happy.”_ Erik’s mental voice repeated softly.

_“Incredibly so.”_ Charles sighed contentedly and gave Erik’s mind a mental caress to match his words.

In that moment, the weight of the day’s activities hit Charles with unexpected force and he pulled away from Erik’s mind slightly, so as not to share the sudden change in his mood from blissful to barely conscious.

“I think I need to sit down.” He managed to say before his knees buckled and he collapsed back onto the couch.

 

* * *

“Dammit Charles!” Erik grumbled as he tucked his arms under Charles and lifted. “You said you weren’t going to faint.”

“Didn’t faint.” Charles mumbled. “Tired.”

Erik ground his teeth loudly to keep himself from cursing. Of course Charles would think having your boyfriend collapse from exhaustion was completely different than fainting. That it looked almost the same to Erik was apparently irrelevant.

Erik carried Charles carefully down the hall toward the bedroom and gently laid him down on the bed, before slipping under the sheets beside him. Charles’ eyelids fluttered and he gave Erik a dreamy smile.

“You can save that adorable smile for someone who hasn’t aged fifty years since they met you.”

_“I’m fine.”_ Charles sleepy voice whispered inside Erik’s mind, but Erik still spent a moment checking the beat of Charles’ pulse and feeling the temperature of his forehead, anxiety still spiking through his veins. It’s not until his actions are interrupted by Charles speaking to him telepathically, that Erik finally stops. The words that still his frantic hands and ease his anxious mind replay through Erik’s head as he watches Charles sleep, his chest falling and rising in a steady rhythm: _happy, safe, home._

* * *

George Percival Clarke has been a professor at Oxford University for over thirty five years. In that time he had been a respected lecturer, co-authored several books on rhetoric and, finally (after far too long a wait as far he as was concerned) made his way onto the governing board of the university. Given his long tenure, his family connections, and his publishing history, Clarke knew he was in a good position to be named Chancellor, if and when the opportunity arose.

He also knew, after thirty five years on campus, that keeping a secret at Oxford was like trying to hold water in your hands – a pointlessly frustrating endeavor.

Clarke knew rumours, in fact, he used rumours as a tool of intimidation quite frequently. Rumours about himself, however, were another story. 

A certain amount of misinformation and fear was always desirable of course, but there was always a tipping point. Clarke was beginning to suspect matters regarding the mutant problem had reached a tipping point.

Ever since mutants had starting their infestation of Oxford’s hallowed grounds, Clarke had been determined to find a solution. They were obviously both dangerous and unworthy of their place at such an elite institution. It had been an easy choice to dedicate himself to ridding Oxford of all mutants.

The first few years all it took was a few choice words with the right people. The concept of mutants being a danger, of being different and a risk, was readily accepted by most of the Oxford admission committee. Now, however, twenty some odd years later, well placed suggestions were not enough. Today, the mutants were everywhere, with their spikes and their blue skin and their abnormal abilities – it was downright sickening. His fight to keep them out of Oxford had failed, but he was not the type of man to back down. This fight was important, the fate of mankind rested on making sure mutants knew their proper place.

When a perfectly suited man had approached him about helping with mutant identification, he had been thrilled. Finally, someone of authority who understood his concerns. Not like the weak willed administrators at Oxford who were suddenly, inexplicably, interested in making mutant students ‘more welcome’ and accepted. Administrators who had hired that awful man, Lehnsherr, to provide mutant specific council. That same man who was now obviously sticking his nose where it didn’t belong – into Clarke’s efforts to catalogue the mutants at Oxford, as well as all research pertaining to mutants, which he was more than happy to turn over to the British government.

Confronting Lehnsherr directly about the rumours of his investigation into Clarke’s student interviews (that was all they were, of course. Simple, completely above board interviews of student researchers), was obviously not the best next step, for a number of reasons. The first being it clearly showed Clarke’s hand and would be a gross strategic misstep. Secondly, Lehnsherr was a bastard of the highest order and Clarke had had not one ounce of success in getting through to the man. He was clearly more interested in protecting mutants, than he was in gaining favour from a senior faculty member. Lastly, there were other targets Clarke had in mind for getting more information about who was trying to sidetrack his efforts. Someone like that bumbling young scientist who couldn’t even look him in the eye. Yes, though Clarke, that would be the perfect place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading - it is incredible to know people are enjoying this little fic.
> 
> I've had a few questions about how long I think this fic might be...and my guess at this point is maybe 20 chapters total - but I'm not sure.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles spent some quality time together. Raven is annoyed with Erik, despite his baking skills. Clarke makes an unwelcome visit.

**Chapter 13**

* * *

Erik had always been an early riser. The merest hint of the sun was enough to wake him up out of a deep sleep, which sometimes started his day ridiculously early. There were times when Erik felt he was a bit cursed by the whole thing, but not today.

Today he had woken up with the sun and Charles was beside him, fast asleep. Erik was happy, no he was thrilled, to have the time to just look. To look at the two freckles that dotted Charles’ nose and made it so irresistible. To catalogue the multitude of other freckles that scattered across Charles’ shoulders, and to watch the rise and fall of his chest. 

It occurred to him that he really hadn’t had much time to just look at Charles, to enjoy him being in his bed, sleeping and ruffled. At some point in the early morning hours Charles had ripped off the sweat shirt and pants he’d borrowed from Erik and now, much to Erik’s delight, he was dozing happily in nothing more than a pair of too large boxers that were slipping down his hips.

It didn’t take long before looking was not enough, and Erik began to touch – slowly running his fingers down Charles’ arms and his chest, gently kissing Charles’ collarbone, blowing soft breaths across his nipples. Erik watched Charles stir as his tongue laved its way around a pink bud, but he did not wake. Feeling more than a little mischievous, Erik ducked his head lower, kissing his way down Charles’ stomach and giving the boxers the light push they needed to drop down, revealing the dark hair surrounding Charles’ hardening cock. Erik decided to just keep pushing, letting the oversized boxers pool below Charles burgeoning erection. He’d hardly had time to look his fill at Charles before, so this seemed only fair.

Erik very much enjoyed the view: the glorious pink of Charles’ cock stood in contrast to his otherwise pale skin and though he wasn’t as big as Erik, he was perfectly formed and thick and Erik could not wait one moment longer to touch him. Swirling his tongue around the head, Erik smiled slightly as Charles twitched – apparently Erik had finally done something worth waking up for. 

Erik was smirking as he leaned down for another swipe with his tongue, which caused Charles to lurch and scramble away with a cry.

“What...what...” Charles stuttered as he pushed himself onto his elbows and peered down at Erik.

“Good morning.” Erik gave Charles his best grin and then enveloped Charles’ perfect pink cock with his mouth.

“Erik! Ah...umm.” Charles whimpered and clutched at the sheets as Erik slowly bobbed his head and explored his length.

Erik was feeling quite content, after all this time he had Charles completely at his mercy. He could take his time to worship every inch of his body, just as he’d imagined so many times. It was strange to think they’d been intimate twice and this was the first time Erik had been able to so much as get his hands on Charles’ cock, let alone his mouth. Obviously, Erik had some catching up to do. He was more than willing to make up for his lost opportunities now.

Erik teased the head of Charles shaft with his lips and then sank back down. Just as he was about to use every bit of his technique and swallow Charles’ cock into his throat, Charles thrashed unexpectedly.

“Stop. Stop. Please Erik, stop.” Charles voice rang out, pained and vulnerable.

Erik wrenched back to look at Charles, full of worry and confusion, only to find Charles shaking and covering his face with his arm.

“Charles?” He asked tentatively, crawling upwards until he was kneeling beside Charles’ face. “Did I hurt you liebling?”

“No.” Charles whispered, still hiding his expression.

“Can I touch you?” Erik asked, hesitant to do anything that might bring that panicked tone back to Charles’ voice.

Charles nodded, but didn’t uncover his face. Erik frowned, still completely baffled by what could have happened to cause this reaction, but decided it was best to trust his instincts – and his instinct said to get as close to Charles as physically possible. Gathering the younger man up in his arms, Erik managed to lift him up onto his lap. The movement was clearly surprising to Charles, who had to move his arm away from his face and grasp at Erik’s shoulders to keep his balance as Erik positioned their legs: Charles’ over his thighs and half wrapped around his waist, bringing them face to face, only inches apart, completely bare and skin to skin.

Despite their close proximity, Charles refused to meet his eyes, stubbornly looking down, his face flushed red. Erik stroked his hands down Charles’ back and gently kissed his shoulder.

“Tell me what’s wrong Charles. What did I do?”

“You didn’t...” Charles started, but stopped as a pained moan escaped him. “I’ve never...no one has ever...done that. To me.” He finished, his voice barely audible.

“Liebling...” Erik murmured, overcome by a primal satisfaction that he was the only one to ever touch Charles this way, and yet also pissed off beyond belief that a man as wonderful as Charles had gone so long without physical affection and sexual satisfaction.

“I...panicked.” Charles shrugged. “I was going to...and I didn’t want...I’m not good at this.” 

Somehow, Charles managed to flush even brighter, pink creeping down his neck as he spoke.

“I wanted you to come Charles. I want to give you pleasure.” Erik kissed his way up Charles’ neck. “You have to let go.”

Charles let his head hang back, giving Erik more room to lick and suck at his neck.

“I like making you feel good.” Charles interjected, jerking his head straight upwards and trying to push back against Erik. “Maybe I could -”

“No.” Erik interrupted lightly, holding Charles firmly. “This makes me feel good. Touching you, seeing you caught up in nothing but what you’re feeling – it’s beautiful.” Erik cupped Charles face in his hands and held him still, staring deeply into his apprehensive blue eyes. “I want to see you come undone for me. How can I do that Charles? What do you want?”

“Kiss me?”

If Charles wanted a kiss, then Erik decided he was going to get the hottest, most lust filled kiss of his life. He started out simply – pecking at Charles’ lips, barely touching for longer than a second at a time, until Charles was straining forward, slotting himself even closer to Erik. At the sound of Charles’ frustrated moan, Erik finally went in full force, licking his way into Charles mouth, sucking on his tongue and nipping on his lips.

Before long Charles was making desperate noises in the back of his throat and forcefully running his hands through Erik’s hair. Unable to stop himself, Erik grabbed firmly at Charles’ hips and thrust up at the same time, causing his cock to brush Charles’ in long, delicious slide. 

Charles wrenched his mouth away from Erik’s and exclaimed: “Fuuuuck…”

Erik thrust up again and grinned into Charles’ neck as the younger man’s breath caught and his nails dug into Erik’s scalp, holding him close. Letting go of Charles’ hip with one hand, he quickly licked his hand and reached down between them. Wrapping his hand around both their cocks, Erik stroked upward firmly.

Charles keened, a high, wild noise, and Erik gloried in the sound of it, so raw and honest.

Charles was now rutting up into Erik’s palm as Erik stroked them both in a steady, sure rhythm. Erik watched him through half lidded eyes, completely enthralled by Charles’ flushed cheeks and half open mouth. Loving how his gorgeous blue eyes rolled back into his head when Erik’s thumb swiped over the head of his shaft and how he was leaning back to give himself more space in which to thrust against Erik’s hand.

Charles had once again outdone himself, Erik thought, as surely this now had to be the sexiest thing Erik had over seen in his life: this young man, flushed with passion, moving with frantic grace towards his release. There couldn’t possibly be anything more erotic than this.

“So beautiful.” Erik whispered into the skin just under Charles’ ear. “You’re so beautiful liebling.”

Erik let his free hand drift around Charles lower back, fingers skimming the curve of Charles’ ass lightly. Charles muttered a breathy ‘Fuck’ and his rhythm stuttered as he seemed to be caught between wanting to thrust into Erik’s grip and also arch back into the hand teasing the top of his ass. Making the decision for him, Erik gripped one cheek firmly in his hand, loving the ragged moan Charles made in response, and firmly urged Charles forward. He tightened his grip around their cocks and sped up his pace, and Charles’ movements matched his perfectly, except with exquisite added little shivers every time Erik squeezed his ass.

Watching Charles and feeling the friction of their shafts rubbing together within his hand, Erik wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

“Let go, Charles.” He encouraged.

Charles looked at him, his eyes glassy and hazy with lust. “Erik.” He gasped.

Erik locked eyes with Charles as he racketed up the pace of his hand one more time. He let go with his other hand to adjust his grip and when he grabbed at Charles again, his finger slipped between his ass cheeks, and Charles came with a wail. Erik followed, helpless to stop himself from slipping over the edge.

“I...is it...is it always like this?” Charles inquired after spending a few minutes flopped boneless across Erik’s chest on the bed.

“No.” Erik huffed out a laugh. “It is not always like this.”

Erik absently carded his fingers through Charles’ soft brown hair and wondered: had it ever been like this? Perhaps this was what sex with a virtual virgin was like – full of the incredible intensity of discovering sex for the first time all over again. 

Erik would never fault Charles for his lack of experience, but it did bring up a few questions. Erik had never had to negotiate sex before – especially with men. Those encounters had been quick and impersonal in the past – just two strangers looking for release and not much else.

“Charles” Erik began, hoping he wasn’t opening a can of worms, “have you ever done this with someone before? Sex, however you define that, blow jobs, hand jobs, all of that, what experience do you have?”

“Three hands jobs and one aborted blow job.” Charles answered with a sad sigh.

“Is that what you’ve given or received?”

“Given.” 

“And you’ve received…?” Erik prodded.

“One hand job from a high school girlfriend. In the back of a car. It was...quite some time ago.”

“I haven’t done this whole relationship type thing for a while either.” Erik admitted. “A few years ago I was engaged to a woman named Magda. I haven’t really...committed to anything since she left.”

Charles pushed himself up off Erik’s chest and looked at him. Erik was struck by the soft determination on his face.

“We’ll figure it out together, yes?”

“Yeah. We will.”

Erik found himself grinning, an uncontrolled, completely happy grin that he couldn’t keep off his face. He thought about how Magda had once commented that he didn’t smile, that he was never happy or joyful. Charles made him happy, incredibly so.

“I would really, really like to blow you sometime in the near future.” Erik said as he tugged on Charles and pulled him close enough to kiss. “If that’s okay with you.” He added as he pecked at Charles nose, making him giggle.

“I shall try to persevere.” Charles laughed. “It sounds torturous, but I will simply lie back and think of England.”

“Well, last time thinking of England didn’t seem to work.” Erik teased, rolling on top of Charles to kiss his nose again.

“Last time,” Charles said pointedly, “I was half asleep and shocked out of my mind to find a gorgeous man between my legs. I temporarily forgot England was a country. Now I’m prepared. I shall recite all the kings of England, in order, from William the Conquerer onwards.”

“Hmm. That sounds like it might take a while.” Erik teased, moving himself downward slightly to lick Charles’ neck. “How about you start right now and see how far you get.” Erik suggested, moving himself south down Charles body.

Charles squeaked when Erik nudged at his cock, but gamely started reciting names.

“William the First, William the Second...oh, ahh...Erik, what are you...please don’t stop.”

Erik was very pleased that Charles didn’t it make passed Richard the Lionheart before he was rendered completely incoherent.

* * *

Raven decided it was hard to hate someone who brought homemade carrot cake for dessert, but she was going to give it her all. She’d certainly never struggled to hold a grudge in the past and she wasn’t going to start being a forgiving pushover now. Damn Erik Lehnsherr was making it difficult though. 

Saturday was supposed to have been a night for her and Charles – just the two of them and a movie marathon (Raven had chosen horror as the theme and was looking forward to watching Charles hide behind a pillow for most of the night). Instead, Charles had invited Erik over for dinner. Raven felt it was well within her sisterly rights to be pissed.

Erik, however, had brought cake. Cake with incredibly delicious, homemade, cream cheese icing. He had also dropped his cake off upon arrival and then immediately thundered downstairs to confront Mr. Grant about the newly re-broken stair. Whatever he had said (no, yelled, there had definitely been yelling – they’d heard it all the way up in their third floor apartment), it had worked wonders because as they were all sitting down for supper, Raven could hear the banging of a hammer, presumably from someone fixing the stair...again.

Now Erik was taking her side in an argument against her brother. It was all rather surreal.

“And why can’t she be blue all the time if she wants?” Erik asked, pointing his fork at Charles.

“I didn’t say she couldn’t be blue. If Raven wishes to be blue, I have no issue with that at all.”

“He objects to me being ‘in my natural form’.” Raven clarified.

“I thought that was blue?” Erik frowned.

“Yes, the blue is not the issue.” Charles explained. “It’s the nudity. If Raven wants to be blue, she should be blue. But what she means when she says ‘natural form’ is blue and naked. I object to the nakedness. We’re siblings. It’s inappropriate.”

“I don’t need clothes in my natural form. They’re pointless.” Raven argued.

“I think Charles may have a point...” Erik said.

“Oh, taking his side now, are we? My natural form isn’t perfect and beautiful anymore, huh?”

“It is absolutely beautiful. If we lived in a mutant only utopia where society was accustomed to some mutants not requiring clothes and that was accepted, things would be different. But here? Now? Seeing your sister naked is just weird.” Erik finished with a shrug.

“Prudes, both of you.” Raven huffed.

“And you would be happy if I strolled around our flat naked?” Charles asked. “Just walked about, balls swinging in the breeze.”

Erik snorted loudly as Raven scrunched her nose up in disgust.

“I rest my case.” Charles declared. “No nakedness.”

Raven sat back as Charles bustled around, collecting empty plates and making his way to the kitchen. Erik followed him, offering his help, but by the time Raven was sitting in the living room, Erik had been shooed out of the kitchen and was making his way to the living room to join her.

“Cake is not enough to put you in my good books, you know.” 

Erik glanced at her as he sat down, legs stretched out, arms across his chest.

“Are we going to have this conversation every time we see each other?”

“Maybe.” Raven shrugged.

“Charles says you’ve been trying to start a mutant club at school?” Erik probed, clearly determined to change the topic.

Raven frowned at Erik. Charles was talking about her to his ‘boyfriend’. She narrowed her eyes at Erik, trying to focus, but finding it was impossible. Charles had a boyfriend. He was over at their place for dinner. Charles had spent the night at Erik’s last night. They’d probably... had sex. Raven’s whole body shuddered at the thought.

“Yes.” She ground out, hoping to take her mind off...other things. “We’ve been trying to start a club. The school says we have to wait until next year. Apparently you’re not allowed to start a club mid-semester. Stupid rule.”

“That just an administrative issue.” Erik offered. “Your club likely needs a faculty sponsor and they have to submit their commitment to any clubs at the start of term. It’s a minor roadblock. If you get everything ready now – get a teacher who will sponsor you, recruit potential members, write up the goals and a mission statement for your group – you’ll be well ahead and can submit something to the school by the end of the term. They’d be hard pressed to reject you for next year if you’re that organized.”

“I won’t even be there next year.” Raven protested. 

“Oh well, never mind then. It’s not as though anyone else could benefit from the club.” Erik grinned that creepy grin of his and Raven scowled.

“Did you have a club when you were in school?” She asked.

“Hell no. My high school was not particularly...tolerant of mutants. But I joined one in college. Every college I attended, actually. Some were...better than others.” Erik explained. “But creating a space where mutants can feel welcome and safe – its worth it. There was push back to those clubs, always, but fighting for mutants, for our rights, is the right thing to do.”

“Hmm.” Raven hedged. “So you think I should just...do all the work and hope that next year something happens.”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“I’m pretty sure you did.”

“Maybe that’s just what you wanted to hear.”

“You’re pulling some first rate counsellor shit on me right now, aren’t you?” Raven accused, sitting up straight on the couch.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Erik replied, lounging across from her.

“Charles!” Raven yelled. “Your boyfriend is lying to me!”

Charles popped his head out of the kitchen; “What are you talking about Raven?”

“Your boyfriend is a dirty, rotten liar, is what I’m talking about.”

“Erik, is that true?” Charles inquired, that ridiculous overly innocent look on his face that Raven hated.

“No.” Erik replied, eyebrow perfectly arched. 

“Well clearly, you’re both lying.” Charles said with a huff. “You shall have to settle this dispute amongst yourselves.”

Charles turned away and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Raven to fume on the couch.

“What have you done to my brother?” She hissed. “He loves to argue with me – why is he hiding in the kitchen and -” Raven paused briefly to listen and confirm her suspicions, “whistling!”

“Maybe he’s happy.” Erik answered, looking more than a little smug, his mouth twitching at the corners.

Raven leaned back in her seat as Erik’s words sunk in. Hadn’t Charles been happy before? They’d always been happy together – arguing and laughing and getting on each other’s last nerve as siblings were supposed to do. How was it that in the last few months it felt like she was discovering Charles was a completely different person than she’d thought he was? How had he hidden all these things from her – losing his job, not eating meals, crushing on his boss? Was it possible that Erik was good for him? Was it possible that even after such a rough start, this ‘thing’ with Erik was going to be good for Charles?

“Maybe he is.” Raven whispered.

“Is that so horrible?” 

“No, of course not.” Raven frowned.

“He’s hard to share though, isn’t he?” Erik said while looking over his should toward the kitchen, as if he could watch Charles through the wall separating the two rooms. 

“Yeah.” Raven agreed, thinking of the last seven years and how they had, for the most part, been just her and Charles against the world. Thinking about how incredible it was when Charles turned his full attention on someone, those blue eyes full of compassion and intelligence. Thinking of how little Charles had shared of himself in the past, always keeping his focus on them, and on her - his little sister. “Yeah he is.”

* * *

Sundays, Charles thought, were the best of all the days. They had sleepy, lazy mornings where Charles and Raven were seldom up before 8am. They had delicious blueberry Eggo breakfasts complete with syrup and, if he could find a good deal, bacon. Heading into work wasn’t even too bad, because the buses weren’t as packed with people and he didn’t have to fight anyone for a seat.

The Mutant Counseling Office also tended to be quiet on Sundays and that, well that meant more time with Erik. More debates, more sharing food, more chess, and over the last few weeks, more stolen kisses.

In fact, today had been so slow that a full half hour before regular office hours ended, Erik had hung the ‘Out of Office’ sign on the door and proceeded to push Charles up against the desk and, for a lack of a better term, ravish him. Twenty minutes later, when they were both thoroughly ruffled, hair sticking up and shirts untucked, Erik had literally thrust him toward the door and declared:

“If you don’t leave now, I cannot be held responsible for what happens next.” 

“Oh really?” Charles had teased running his fingers along the mostly undone buttons of Erik’s shirt, perfectly happy to explore whatever outcome that might be.

“I’m serious Charles. I am about two seconds away from bending you over the desk and...well, you get the picture.”

“Oh!” Charles had flushed, his hand frozen in place at the mere thought of Erik bending him over and fucking him in the office. Because he knew, without a doubt that was what Erik meant.

Erik growled, kissed him, and then pushed him straight out the door.

“Go to the bathroom, straighten yourself up, and get to the lab.” He ordered.

Charles had hastily complied. And thank goodness he had – he’d been in a much worse state than he’d thought and had needed ten minutes in the bathroom before his clothes were presentable, his hair was in place and the flush had left his cheeks.

Walking across campus toward the lab, Charles was glad to feel the bite of the cold winter wind. It was just what he needed to seep the heat from Erik’s earlier caresses out of his body. At this rate, Charles was confident he would be able to focus on the task at hand when he got to the lab. 

His walk was also the perfect time to fortify his shields. He never lowered them much on campus, but Erik had gotten so used to feeling Charles in his mind, especially when they were intimate, that he now noticed when Charles was shielding particularly well and had asked him to stop. Charles had been reluctant (although scared might have been a more accurate description), but they had managed to find a balance they were both comfortable with – one where Charles was still quite heavily shielded, but he could still speak within Erik’s mind. By the time he entered the science building and approached the lab, his telepathy was so dulled by his shields, he couldn’t even tell if Hank was already inside.

Pleased with himself for his excellent control, Charles opened the door to the lab with a smile on his face. The scene in front of him wiped that smile away quickly: Hank was backed into the far corner of the room, an irate Professor Clarke looming over him.

“Professor Clarke!” Charles’ voice rang out firmly. “I wasn’t aware we had an appointment.”

Clarke turned to look at Charles, face still flushed with anger. He looked as though he was hoping Charles might vanish in a puff of smoke if he just glared hard enough.

“Hank,” Charles continued, his fake society smile plastered on his face (his mother would have been proud, he was sure), “would you mind popping out and getting us some tea? Mustn’t be inhospitable to our guest, yes?”

Hank gave Charles a look of pure relief, and mouthed _‘Thank you’_ as he passed by Charles on his way out the door and toward the kitchenette down the hall. As soon they were alone, Charles focused every bit of his attention back on Clarke.

“Remind me Professor, why were we meeting again?” He asked, the picture of politeness.

Clarke glared at Charles for several moments before answering, but Charles waited him out, a half-smile of vague indifference plastered on his face.

“You can quit the act.”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The innocent act your projecting right now – you can drop it. I know what you’re doing.” Clarke accused.

“Well I certainly hope you know!” Charles replied happily. “We spoke at length about my research earlier this year. Although, I must say Professor, my stance has not changed since our last conversation – I will not be sharing any information about my participants. Such a breech of research ethics is...obviously unacceptable.” Charles smiled blandly again, internally satisfied as he watched a vein pulse in Clarke’s temple.

“That’s enough!” Clarke hissed. “I know what you’re doing with Lehnsherr.”

“Mr. Lehnsherr?” Charles puzzled dramatically. “Oh, well he is my boss. Had to take on some part time employment – you know how it is sometimes.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not sure how this relates to my research?”

Clarke cursed audibly. “You are being deliberately obtuse, boy! I am talking about Lehnsherr’s vendetta against me. I know all about it.”

“Vendetta? That sounds rather dramatic. Surely you must be mistaken Professor.”

Clarke stepped closer to Charles, putting them in almost the exact same position Clarke and Hank had been when Charles entered the lab earlier. Except Clarke was having a much easier time looming over Charles, who was a good bit shorter than Hank.

“That weak little research partner of yours was about to spill everything until you barged in here.” Clarke growled. “Don’t think for a moment I’m not on to you – whatever it is you are, whatever your abnormal ability is. You and your kind have no place here.”

“It seems that the Oxford admissions committee does not share your views, Mr. Clarke.” Charles commented mildly.

“Professor Clarke!” Clarke corrected harshly. “I will do whatever I have to do to derail Lehnsherr’s plans. And I will take him, you, and all your little mutant friends down with him.”

“We have as much right to be here as anyone else.” Charles stated, struggling to maintain his calm demeanor. 

At that moment Hank entered the room, a tray with a tea pot and saucers in his hands.

“Surely we can have a civil discussion about this over tea?” Charles suggested.

“I wouldn’t sit down and have tea with you...freaks, if it would save me from a firing squad.” 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Charles said, though he didn’t mean a word of it. “It seems we’ve reached an impasse.”

Clarke stared at him in fury, nostrils flared and breathing rough, for several moments. Charles could hear Hank moving behind him, gently setting down the tea tray and no doubt trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible.

“This isn’t the end.” Clarke finally broke the silence. “I have friends all over this country, in important positions, and they feel as I do, that mutants are a plague on mankind.”

Clarke moved around Charles briskly, and headed to the door. Just as he reached for the knob, he whirled around and pointed directly at Charles.

“You, you are in my sights now young man. I don’t know how you’ve done it, but this is at least partly your doing – protecting your research partner, working with Lehnsherr – you’re as guilty as anyone for this mess. Make no mistake, I will do everything within my power to have you removed from Oxford.” Clarke appeared to be done with his threats, but then he smirked happily. “No, I will do everything in my power to have you removed from England entirely. Don’t think I can’t do it, Xavier. My connections reach to the highest levels and unlike you, I have the finances to grease the wheels.”

Charles felt the air leave his lungs and found he was momentarily unable to reply.

“You should leave Professor.” Charles started at the sound of Hank’s voice behind him. “You’ve made your threats – now get out.”

Clarke scowled over Charles shoulder at Hank, but he did not stay. He wrenched the door open violently and strode out into the hall.

For several moments the only sound in the room was of Charles’ deep breaths and Hank’s heavy sighs.

“Charles...” Hank said hesitantly and Charles turned his head toward Hank, feet still rooted in one place, unable to move from Professor Clarke’s threats.

Charles sucked in one deep, almost painful breath, and took a moment to reassure himself that his shields were firmly in place. Satisfied, he surged forward to grab his book bag.

“We need to go.” He declared.

“Go? Where?” Hank asked. “We’re supposed to be working -”

“We have to go Hank. We have to tell Erik about this. Right now.” Charles slug his bag across his shoulder and started dragging Hank by the arm toward the door.

“We? Why me? Mr. Lehnsherr is kind of scary...” Hank protested.

“Mr. Lehnsherr is my boss. He is not really scary – once you get to know him.” Charles vowed. “And you are coming because Clarke threatened us both. We need to report what happened – yes?” Charles said eyebrows arched questioningly.

Hank nodded.

“Brilliant.” Charles said. “Come on, let’s go.”

With one final tug, Charles and Hank were out the door. Charles could only hope it wouldn’t take him much time to track down Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was able to get this chapter up a bit faster than anticipated (thanks to my betas for being amazing!). 
> 
> But my pace will be slowing down over the next few weeks. I will be away for a bit (no computer or internet) and my eldest is starting kindergarten, so busy times! 
> 
> Planning to have the next chapter up within two weeks (hopefully earlier, but no promises). Chapter 14 was hard to write and long and may take a bit longer than usual to edit and recover from.
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Every comment and kudo is cherished.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke stirs up trouble. Charles and Erik have a serious miscommunication. Raven, surprisingly, helps Charles decide how to make things right with Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. As I mentioned, this is a busy time for me and my family and I was away from my computer and the internet for some time.
> 
> However, this chapter has a lot going on and ended up being over 7000 words, so I hope this makes up for the wait!

****

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Hank shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing quickly down the hall as he stood behind Charles, his pulse racing.

“Charles...” He began hesitantly. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yes, Hank. It’s absolutely fine.” Charles grunted as he shoved the key into the lock. “This door is just sticky.”

Hank felt his stomach churning with unease. There was just something about this whole thing that made him feel like they were breaking into the Mutant Counseling Office even though Charles had a key. Hank found it did not matter how many times Charles told him Mr. Lehnsherr was actually a nice person under his gruff exterior, Hank was still terrified of the man.

“There we are!” Charles exclaimed triumphantly as he swung the door open and stepped into the office.

“How is this going to help us again?” Hank asked apprehensively.

“Erik keeps everything in his day planner. Everything. If he has an appointment, it will be here.”

Hank shuffled again still full of uneasy thoughts. Charles had opened the door to the inner office, where Hank knew Mr. Lehnsherr counselled students. There was no way in hell he was going in there.

“Aha! Got it.” Charles turned to Hank with a smile. “’Glut’ here we come.”

Hank almost groaned out loud, but somehow found the strength to contain himself. Apparently they were about to run off to one of the most popular restaurants in town in search of a man Hank had no desire to see.

“Hank?” Charles stopped near the door to the hall. “Erik will help us. With Clarke. This is not some wild crusade. I promise, my friend, I would not steer you wrong. Not about this.”

“I suppose...” Hank began slowly, “that if I find him intimidating, than I can hope Professor Clarke will too.”

“Yes!” Charles agreed heartily. “Erik will not be cowed by that man Hank. He is far too persistent and dedicated.” 

Hank felt his brow furrow and took a deep breath to stead himself. Charles could be trusted – he’d always been a good friend to Hank, and frankly, Hank had never had many friends. Charles was kind, energetic, highly intelligent and incredibly compassionate. He’d also shown more interest in Hank and his life than anyone had for years. Faced with Charles eager, sincere expression, Hank found it impossible to refuse Charles’ request.

“You’re good then? We can be on our way?” Charles asked.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Hank confirmed.

Better the devil Charles knew Hank decided, than Professor Clarke.

* * *

“So, am I forgiven?”

Moira paused, her fork in mid air and sighed.

“Yes and no.”

Erik cocked his head and gave her an exasperated look. Erik still felt raw from Moira’s reaction on the weekend, from the knowledge that her initial reaction to Charles and Erik’s relationship to Charles had been so clearly negative. He’d met Moira tonight for dinner mostly hoping for an all out apology and it appeared he was about it be disappointed. 

“Listen, I will say that I am...less apprehensive about your relationship with Charles than I was initially. I can admit I over-reacted.” Erik nodded in agreement at Moira’s words. “But, and this is a big but, this relationship could be a bad thing – for both of you.”

“Explain.”

“You might not be breaking any rules, per se, but Erik, you have to know that this doesn’t exactly look good for you, professionally speaking.”

“I’m not taking advantage -” Erik grumbled.

“I know that.” Moira interjected quickly. “I do. But other people? Other professors? The Engineering Department? What if Clarke caught wind of this? You don’t think he’d spin this in the most damning way possible?”

“I am not unaware of the risks.” Erik bit out.

“And?”

“And Charles is worth it.”

“That is...incredibly romantic and possibly very, very stupid.” Moira sighed. “As your friend, I’m happy for you. Truly Erik. I’m not sure I ever thought you’d find someone you felt for this...deeply. But as your colleague, I’m worried.”

“I appreciate that you’ve changed your mind since the weekend.” Erik conceded begrudgingly. “And I do understand the risks. I am not a child and neither is Charles. We have to keep things quiet. And we will – for now.”

“How long do you think keeping things hidden is going to work?” Moira probed.

“It’s not ideal. I admit that.” Erik huffed. “I don’t want to be secretive, but for now, with the Clarke case in the early stages, it is what it is.”

Erik felt his meal sitting in his stomach like a rock. Moira’s doubts were completely reasonable and they all seemed to be settling in his gut. Whatever happened, Erik did not want to put Charles at risk, or cause him anymore distress. Charles was already worried enough about being discovered, that the truth of his mutation would be revealed and Erik had no intention of putting him in a position where his anxiety would increase.

“So you had another horrible date.” Erik said, deciding a change in conversation was the way to go.

“Oh, god yes.” Moira exhaled deeply. “He was really something. I’m not sure he thought I had a brain in my head and he clearly wanted me to be barefoot and pregnant for the rest of my life. Kept talking about my ‘biological purpose for living’.” Moira shuddered. “And he couldn’t stop talking about his job, his car, his flat, his clothes. I now know everything I ever wanted to know and more about getting a suit tailored and re-lined.”

“He sounds like a horrible representation of the human race.”

“He was.” Moira sighed. “Why can I never meet someone nice? Someone who actually wants to listen to me talk? Someone with at one least romantic bone in their body - I’ll take a small one even! Are all the single men in Oxford in my dating range just creeps?”

“Maybe you should try younger men.” Erik suggested, smirking slightly.

“Very funny. Its a bit soon to be joking about that – just because you found love in the arms of a younger man.” Moira shook her head.

“It couldn’t hurt to try something different.” Erik held his hands up defensively in the face of Moira’s glare. “Only if you want to, obviously.”

“How did it happen exactly?” Moira inquired.

“What?”

“Charles! How did Charles and you happen?”

“Moira...” Erik grumbled. “I’m not discussing this.”

“Erik.” Moira pleaded.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“But Charles -” Suddenly Moira’s eyes widened and she half stood out of her chair. “Charles?”

Erik puzzled over Moira’s odd behaviour for a moment, only to have Charles and what appeared to be a very out of breath Hank McCoy suddenly appear beside the table, causing Erik to feel as surprised as Moira.

“Hello Professor McTaggert. Mr Lehnsherr.” Charles said stiffly. “I do apologize for interrupting your meal, but there seems to be a...an issue at the lab.”

“What issue?” Moira asked, voice full of concern.

“Ah...someone was cooking ...meth. Someone was cooking meth in the lab. And in Mr. Lehnsherr’s office as well.”

Erik could not for the life of him imagine why Charles had told such a bold faced lie. He couldn’t help but look over at his usually very intelligent boyfriend as if he had suddenly grown two heads and neither of them had a brain cell between them.

Charles flushed and fidgeted with his hands under Erik’s scrutiny, but remained silent.

“That is ridiculous, Charles. I have no idea why you’ve come here to talk non-sense, but I am not the least bit amused.”

Moira did not sound the least bit amused. She sounded disappointed and insulted.

“We have something to tell you.” Hank said stepping forward and pitching his voice low. “It would be best if we had the conversation privately, however.”

“Yes, thank you Hank.” Charles agreed readily. “That is...I was trying to...we should really leave.”

“You really are a horrible liar Charles. Next time, stick to the truth.” Moira said with a shake of her head. “Meth, there had to be something better than that.”

Somehow Charles managed to flush an even brighter shade of red.

“I’ll get the bill and we’ll meet you outside. My car is around the corner.” Erik instructed as he flagged down the waiter.

“Yes, excellent. We’ll be off then.” Charles turned quickly and exited the restaurant, with Hank following on his heels.

Thankfully the waiter arrived promptly and given their hasty exit, Erik tipped him double. Anything to get him out of this restaurant as soon as humanly possibly so he could talk to Charles. He needed to know why he’d shown up unexpectedly, with Hank, and given that the reason could not be discussed in public, Erik was more than a little concerned.

Had someone found out about Charles’ mutation? Had something happened at the lab -obviously not the meth cooking but something else? Had someone threatened Charles (and possibly Hank, though that was of a far lesser concern)?

His thoughts jumbled, Erik walked through the restaurant in a haze. He had to know what was going on and the sooner he got the information the better. The sooner they got out of the public eye the better. Once they were finally safe, safe to talk about whatever “issue” Hank had vaguely alluded to, than maybe Erik could finally touch Charles. A simple touch seemed essential in the face of all this drama.

His fingers were itching to touch right now, as he walked closer to his car and stared at Charles, casually leaning against the side door. How was he supposed to resist that? That body draped so casually against the metal of the door, just begging for him to crowd in close and kiss Charles senseless. Didn’t Charles know what he did to him?

Given that Charles graciously gave Hank the front seat - ‘ You have the longer legs my friend’ - apparently he had no idea at all. Or, as Erik met Charles’ pleading eyes in the rearview mirror, perhaps he knew exactly what Erik was feeling and was just trying to keep his distance, for both their sakes.

Erik let out a long, slow breath and started driving to Moira’s flat. If he couldn’t get his hands on Charles there, someway, somehow, he just might explode.

* * *

Charles had to consciously stop himself from fidgeting in the backseat of the car. Moira was seated not a foot away and he was trying his best to appear calm and clear headed. In reality, his thoughts were a buzz, caught between worrying about Clarke’s threats, concerns over the future of Erik’s filing against Clarke, and suppressing the intense need to bury himself in Erik arms and hope everything just magically righted itself.

It didn’t help that he could feel Erik’s anger, his anxiety, his incredible frustration pulsing against his shields. Charles desperately wished he could drop his shields, even the slightest bit, and offer Erik some comfort, a brief telepathic hug if you will. He couldn’t risk it of course, not in such close proximity to Hank and Moira.

Fortunately the drive Moira’s flat was short, uneventful and completely silent.

The silence ended abruptly once they were all inside the confines of Moira’s flat.

“What the fuck is going on?” Erik demanded, pacing aggressively across Moira’s dated shag carpet. 

“Clarke knows.” 

The words tumbled out of Charles’ mouth immediately.

“He knows what?” Moira asked.

“He knows...something. He knows the gig is up, that someone is on to him. He knows that Erik is involved, although he never came right out and said he knew about the complaint that was filed.” Charles fumbled to explain.

“What did he say?” Erik ground out. “What did he say to make you run across town to find me?”

“He said...he said no mutant should be at Oxford.” Charles said, unexpectedly reluctant to say more.

“That’s it?” Erik asked pointedly.

Strangely Charles felt as though Erik was reading his mind – that he knew without a doubt that Charles was withholding information. There was just something inside Charles that insisted he was burdening Erik, that he should keep Clarke’s threats, or at least some of them, to himself.

“What Charles said is true.” Hank spoke up. “He threatened all the mutants on campus. He also named Mr. Lehnsherr as the instigator of all the current trouble he is experiencing. He also specifically threatened -”

“Yes, he was very free with his threats.” Charles interrupted quickly. “Very unpleasant man. Quite paranoid I would say.”

Charles refused to look at Hank, or Erik, though he could feel them both staring at him intently, Hank in confusion and Erik with that single minded focus that was at once intimidating and arousing. Whatever it took, Charles would keep Clarke’s threats against him specifically from Erik. Erik already had far too much on his plate.

“Well some of his paranoia is based in reality. We have filed a complaint against him.” Moira noted. “Not that that would justify intimating students. Clarke’s seems to have two approaches – bribery and flattery, or threats.” Moira sighed.

“What’s the next logical step then?” Charles asked. “What should we do?”

“We mobilize.” Erik replied.

“Erik, we can’t be obvious about this.” Moira objected.

“We can be. We can be as obvious and open as we want. Clarke knows, there’s no reason to hide anymore now that we’ve lost the advantage of surprise. Now, our best bet is the power of numbers, of loud and angry voices. It’s time to go public, to blanket Oxford with the truth about Clarke.” Erik answered, his voice controlled but edged with righteous anger.

“We could very well lose the complaint this way. They might not even look at it if you’re seen to be supporting such public vitriol against Clarke. The Review Board is very specific –“

“I’m aware of the Review Board policies Moira.” Erik cut in. “And you’re right, the complaint will likely get dismissed. So we have to try him in the court of public opinion instead.”

“We should alert all the students and professors who came forward for the complaint.” Charles added hesitantly. “If Clarke found Hank and myself, he may directly target others. They should have some warning.”

“Definitely.” Moira agreed. “You have everyone’s contact info, right Erik?”

“Yeah. I could go do that now, if I can use your office computer.” Erik raised an eyebrow at Moira and she nodded in agreement.

“I’ll go make some tea.” Charles chimed in.

As he made his way to the kitchen he could feel Erik’s eyes on his back and the press of his thoughts against his shields. Erik was practically shouting at him telepathically, but Charles fortified his shields and continued into the kitchen as if nothing was happening. Of course nothing was happening, as far as anyone else could tell and that was exactly how Charles intended things to stay.

Tonight was about protecting the other mutants on campus. It was about warning Erik and Moira and the other faculty members who had stepped forward regarding Clarke’s behaviour. It seemed like it was also about to become a planning session for what to do next; how to organized and galvanize the student body and drum up support for the mutant cause.

Tonight was not about Charles. It was not about Clarke’s threats to remove him from Oxford or from England. Those problems, Charles was determined to handle for himself.

* * *

Charles splashed cold water on his face hoping it might revive his flagging energy levels. After two hours at Moira’s, huddled around a table across from Erik (as far away as he could possibly get so as not to arouse any suspicions), throwing out ideas of how to rally support for mutant students at Oxford, Charles was absolutely exhausted.

His self-imposed exile from Erik was not helping matters either. Right now, Charles wanted nothing more than to collapse into Erik’s arms, snuggle in and fall asleep. However, given the current drama with Clarke, keeping his relationship with Erik a secret was even more important than it had been. Erik was clearly not happy about the lack of physical contact. Thankfully, he had stopped shouting at Charles telepathically. Instead, Erik was now treating Charles in a detached professional manner that felt like a cold knife to the heart – not that Charles could complain. This ‘professional relationship’ was exactly what he wanted to project to Hank. He just hadn’t realized how much it would hurt.

A little bit of emotional pain now was surely worth it to keep Erik safe for the time being.

Charles closed his eyes and started a quick deep breathing exercise to calm his mind before heading back out into the living area. The creak of a door opening interrupted his plans.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Erik hissed.

“I’m calming my mind.” Charles frowned. “You shouldn’t be in here, people will notice.”

“I don’t fucking care if they notice! I want to…you’ve been miles away from me Charles, I need to touch you.” 

Erik reached forward and without thinking, Charles flinched back, bumping into the sink with a wince. Erik dropped his hand immediately, a pained look on his face.

“What is it, Charles? What’s wrong?”

“Everything is fine.” Charles replied tonelessly. “I told you before, nothing happened. Everything is fine.”

Erik furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak, but then shook his head as if admitting defeat and stayed silent.

“We talked about this, yes?” Charles prompted. “Our relationship, keeping it…secret, that’s what you wanted, what we agreed to do, for both our sakes. I’m just following through, playing the part.”

“You’re keeping something from me.” Erik muttered suspiciously.

“I’m keeping something from them! From Hank, from anybody that might see!” Charles whispered frantically. 

“And now? Here? I can’t touch you now?” Erik stepped forward, pushing his body into Charles’ space.

“No.” Charles said forcefully and closed his eyes as he felt his shields start to crack.

He rubbed his temples as he closed off his thoughts from Erik and re-fortified his shields. By the time he opened his eyes again, Erik had stepped back by the door. He was still watching Charles intently, but his expression was shuttered and unreadable to Charles without the help of his telepathy.

Charles tried to convey his troubled thoughts to Erik through his eyes, holding Erik’s gaze for several moments. He watched as Erik turned quickly, flicked open the door with his powers and left the room without a word. Apparently trying to communicate with his eyes had failed.

Charles hung his head for a moment and then moved swiftly to the door.

He had had enough. He walked over to Moira’s front door, grabbing his coat from the coat rack.

“My apologies everyone.” He announced pleasantly, masking his internal dread and exhaustion. “I have to be going home. My sister is expecting me.”

“Can you make it to the Mutant Coalition meeting?” Moira asked.

“I-” Charles began.

“We could walk together after lab work on Thursday.” Hank added enthusiastically.

Charles managed a small smile. Despite his own negativity about the night, Hank had somehow flourished, taking great interest in involving the Mutant Coalition, and getting them to join their cause. Charles had been more than a little shocked, but Hank explained he’d been a member of the club for several years (a new tidbit of information to Charles) and he felt the club was very likely to offer support.

“Yes, of course. It’s a plan, Hank.” Charles nodded.

He couldn’t help but steal a peak at Erik, who was perched on the arm of Moira’s couch, pointedly not looking at Charles.

_‘I’m sorry’_ Charles thought. _‘I’m ruining it again and I’m so very sorry, love.’_

* * *

Then he walked out the door and hoped he still had a boyfriend to see tomorrow morning.

“So, are you gonna tell me about it?” Raven asked as she sat down beside Charles on the couch.

“Tell you about what?”

“Tell me why you came home today and slept for three hours? Tell me why you’re sitting here on the couch eating beans on toast – your favourite comfort food that you never eat because you know how gross I think it is?” Raven reached over and brushed Charles’ hair off his fore head gently. “Did you have a bad day at the lab?”

“No, the lab was fine.” Charles frowned down at his toast.

“So, something else then. Come on, spill Charles.”

“Something happened at the lab, nothing to do with our research.” Charles took a deep breath and then continued slowly. “Someone has been trying to...intimidate us, intimidate mutants. I took Hank to see Erik right away. I knew Erik could help.”

Raven watched Charles’ face attentively as he spoke, his eyes were fixed on the bookshelves across the room, hazy and unfocused.

“And?” She prompted gently.

“And we found Erik. But I had to hide, we had to hide. We agreed not to reveal our relationship publically, it could look bad for Erik and his career.” Charles sighed and looked down at his food once again. “Maybe I was too good at pretending. Maybe I just don’t know how to find the middle ground – how to not show other people I care about Erik and still show Erik I care. He was so angry, Raven. He wouldn’t even look at me by the time I left. I don’t know...I don’t know if we just broke up, or if he’ll be fine in the morning, or something else entirely.”

“You should go talk to him.” Raven replied confidently.

“It’s late.” Charles protested.

“So what? If you’re this bothered by the whole thing, you think he isn’t? He’s probably up too, doing whatever an emotionally stunted man does when he’s upset.”

“Which is what?” Charles said, a small smile creeping onto the corners of his face.

“Probably drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Or maybe writing angry rants on the internet and making children cry.” Raven concluded with a sly grin.

“So you should go.” She continued. “Go over to his place and talk. Tell him you were pretending and you hated it and you didn’t mean for him to get the wrong idea. Or better yet – yell at the asshole! Tell him he agreed to keeping things on the down low and he shouldn’t be so bent out of shape because you did what he said he wanted you to do! I mean, really he’s being a dick - he can’t have it both ways!” Raven finished with a flourish. 

“It was a bit unreasonable I suppose.” Charles said after several minutes of silence.

“Totally unreasonable.” 

“I should set the record straight.” Charles declared firmly.

“You should.”

“It’s almost 10pm.” Charles said as he glanced at his watch and worried at his bottom lip. “It’s too late.”

“It’s not that late.” Raven contradicted. “Just go.” 

Raven grabbed the plate off Charles’ lap and started pushing him toward the door.

“Here,” Raven shoved Charles’ oversized jacket into his hands, “get going. Give him a piece of your mind.”

Charles buttoned his jacket slowly, his fingers fumbling to get buttons into holes.

“You’ll be alright here on your own? Even if I don’t come back tonight?” Charles hesitated before reaching for the door.

“I’ll be fine.” Raven rolled her eyes. “Now go.”

Raven gave Charles a push out the door and grinned as he made his way down the stairs. 

“And don’t apologize!” She yelled happily and sighed.

What she wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall during whatever happened at Erik’s tonight.

* * *

Knowing you’ve done something stupid and wrong and fixing it are two vastly different things. Erik had spent the last few hours sitting on his couch, drinking beer, and mulling over his behaviour trying to examine how he could have treated Charles the way he did. Was he trying to push Charles anyway? Or was he really just life’s biggest relationship failure? 

All evening all he’d wanted was to be closer to Charles, and all he had done in the end was drive him away.

When he had been like this in the past, all brooding and silence and barely contained rage, Magda had waited him out. She would leave the house, or ignore him right back – two people living in the same house passing each other like ships in the night. Eventually they would fight, usually a screaming match that ruined dinner, neither one of them giving an inch. Somehow, and Erik couldn’t really remember how, they would move past things. It had all seemed so...normal. Of course, Magda had also left him for another man, so perhaps things hadn’t been going as smoothly as Erik had thought.

Erik stood and walked to the fridge to grab another beer. How could he make things right with Charles? The thought of Charles leaving him twisted his gut and...well Erik wasn’t sure he could think about the idea for longer than a second without punching the wall. He was not going to lose Charles, he couldn’t.

Determined to do...something, Erik put his beer back in the fridge and made his way to the front door. He would go to Charles. He would apologize, or explain, or kiss Charles senseless until he forgot his boyfriend was an emotional constipated idiot. Yes, Erik thought, option three sounded like the appropriate choice. 

Shoes on, coat in hand, Erik wrenched the door open and stepped outside, only to smack right into a smaller body.

“Oof.”

Erik caught Charles firmly by his arms to stop him from tumbling backwards down Erik’s front steps.

“Charles.” Erik chocked out as he dragged Charles inside his apartment. “Charles.”

Once inside, Erik immediately started removing Charles’ coat, rubbing his arms up and down, trying to confirm with his senses that Charles was really here.

“I’m not here to apologize.” Charles declared firmly, pushing himself back and away from Erik’s touch. “My behaviour was appropriate and completely understandable. You were being unreasonable.” 

Charles paused for a deep breath and then continued, his face troubled, but his eyes never leaving Erik’s own. 

“You cannot expect our relationship to remain secret, but also expect me to touch you, or communicate with you telepathically to reassure you every time we have to pretend to be nothing more than friends or colleagues. You know how difficult it is for me to maintain my boundaries and keep my mutation a secret.”

Erik nodded lamely – he did know. He knew it physically hurt Charles to suppress his powers. What he hadn’t known was how much it would hurt him to be caught in a performance at a time of crisis when all he wanted, all he’d needed, was to hold Charles in his arms.

“You were more convincing than I thought.” Erik admitted. “It brought things back, from my past.”

“What things?” Charles asked, taking a tentative step closer to Erik, while still remaining out of reach.

“Magda.” Erik ground out. “She left me and I had no clue. No fucking idea that she was even unhappy. One day I came home and her stuff was gone. There was a note on the fridge saying she’d left. That’s she’d fallen in love with Stephen, her boss, and she was sorry but she had to leave and be with him.” Erik sucked in air through his teeth painfully. “I don’t want to screw this up like that Charles, but I don’t even know what I did, or didn’t do to make such a mess of things last time.”

“I’m sorry for what happened Erik.” Charles said with complete sincerity, though whether he was talking about Magda or what had happened earlier today, Erik wasn’t sure.

“I didn’t know how it would feel now. How it would bring...things back.”

“We should have talked more.” Charles said. “About how things were going to work. About how we would handle things and how we could communicate with each other if we were having trouble. We were naive to think having a ‘secret’ relationship would be easy.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m not Magda, Erik. I don’t know why she did what she did, but I’m not her.” Charles said, voice clear and confident. “I will not leave you without a word of explanation. And I may have to pretend in public I don’t care about you the way I truly do, but when it’s you and me, just us in this flat, you will always know how I feel. You will always know what I feel for you.”

“Yeah.” Erik replied dumbly, his heart pounding in his chest, but his brain unable to form coherent words to express himself.

“Are we...good, then?” Charles asked hesitantly.

Erik flicked his eyes up to Charles and saw he was watching him warily. Erik couldn’t blame him for his uncertainty. Erik felt he was panting like he’d just run a marathon. His hands were itching and he kept clenching and flexing his fists to stop them from trembling. Even now, with Charles across from him, after his heartfelt declarations, Erik felt raw from earlier in the day.

He didn’t know how to explain how he’d felt at Moira’s, it had been so surreal. Erik had felt he was watching a scene from a horrible future – a future where he and Charles were no longer together, but they still saw each other. They still had to interact and be civil and polite and normal. Except all Erik felt was the churning of his gut and the racing of his heart and the inescapable thought that this future, this future where Charles was not his, was unacceptable. It was horrible in every way and Erik had been stunned by the depth of his feelings. He hated this possible future. He hated it with every fibre of his being. Even though the rational part of his mind knew Charles was keeping his distance for a good reason, for a mutually agreed upon reason, the primal, emotional part of him had needed to touch and claim Charles with an intensity that had almost knocked him off his feet.

Now, Erik felt that same urge to touch, to claim, to mark Charles as his completely. It was ridiculous but he couldn’t make it stop.

“What do you need, Erik?” Charles soft, gentle voice interrupted the chaos of his emotional turmoil.

“I need to touch you.” Erik growled low in his throat.

Charles cocked his head to the side, a crease of confusion on his brow. 

“You can touch me.” He offered. “We could go sit on the couch -”

“No.” Erik cut in sharply. “I need to touch you everywhere. I need to...I need to know you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” Charles said, his voice still soft and calm.

“I can’t be...I won’t be gentle.” Erik got out between clenched teeth. “I need to know you’ll stop me if I do anything, anything at all you don’t like.”

Charles’ head remained titled to the side, his expression pensive and thoughtful.

“Can I try something?” He asked, wiggling his fingers near his forehead.

“Yes.” Erik answered immediately.

Charles rested his fingers gently against his temple and closed his eyes. Within seconds, Erik could feel the familiar warmth of Charle telepathy surrounding him. Charles opened his eyes and stared at Erik, his eyes focused and clear.

_“Come and get me.”_ Charles voice rang out in his mind, determined but also playful.

Erik growled and lunged forward – except he didn’t. His legs stood still and his arms had not reached out: he hadn’t moved a single millimetre closer to Charles.

_“I will always be able to stop you, Erik. You can’t hurt me.”_ Charles murmured soothingly.

Erik felt his chest heaving with the effort to move, the air rushing through his nose in bursts. God Charles power was incredible. It was awe inspiring. Now, controlled by Charles Erik felt nothing but respect and admiration, all tinged with a very large amount of lust.

_“Please.”_ He sent back to Charles, knowing if he could have moved he may well have dropped to his knees and begged.

Charles dropped his fingers from his temple and nodded once, a definitive sharp movement the left no doubt of his acceptance.

Erik surged forward, grabbing frantically at Charles, taking possession of his mouth in a searing kiss, and slamming him against the wall. The impact against the wall caused Erik’s teeth to sink into Charles’ bottom lip and Erik tasted blood as he sucked that same lip into his mouth. Erik could feel Charles hands in his hair, his blunt fingernails scraping along his scalp, making him growl and squeeze his hands harder around Charles’ hips. Erik somehow managed to rip his mouth away from Charles’ to nip at his neck, breathing in Charles’ scent and muttering ‘Charles’ and ‘Mine’ over and over as he went.

Erik normally didn’t use his powers during sex, but he used every bit of them now; undoing zippers, and belt buckles in his haste to get both their pants off. Surprisingly Charles was wearing only a t-shirt and a sweater (no cardigan, or button down with a thousand tiny buttons in the way) and Erik greedily tore them off Charles in one determined pull.

Their clothes strewn across the entry way, Erik stepped back slightly to take in Charles’ flushed naked body, making him groan and lung forward again, pulling Charles tightly against him.

“Bedroom.” Charles whimpered breathlessly into his ear.

Part of Erik didn’t care about the bedroom – he would have happily fucked Charles against the door, or on the floor, or honestly, given how frantic and needy he was, in front of an audience of thousands, but he was helpless to resist Charles’ request.

Gripping Charles thighs, Erik lifted him up and felt his eyes roll back in his head when Charles immediately wrapped his legs around his waist. Erik rested his forehead against Charles’ taking several deep breaths before he took a step and began a slow, rambling walk to his room. Every few moments he stopped, pushing Charles against the nearest wall and kissing him until he had to stop and come up for air.

Somehow they made to the bed. Somehow, after hundreds of deep, tongue-filled kisses, after sucking and nipping and marking every inch of Charles’ neck and shoulders, Erik found himself turning Charles onto his stomach. Lust-filled and feeling more than a slightly out of control, Erik covered Charles’ body with his own: one hand gripped Charles’ wrist and holding it to the mattress, the other grabbing at his hips and pulling them up to meet his body, his cock settling into the crack of Charles ass.

“Erik...” Charles moaned, his hips twitching.

Erik groaned, a deep gutteral rumble in his chest as he leaned over Charles, draping his body over Charles’ back and kissing every freckly on his shoulders. Erik let go of Charles’ hip momentarily and reached out with his powers, opening the drawer of his bedside table and levitating a metal tin of lube his way. Erik pulled back, slicking himself up and then generously coating Charles’ inner thighs, before slipping himself between them with a shuddering moan. 

Laying himself over Charles’ back once more, Erik thrust forward with a snap of his hips. He heard Charles let out a high pitched whimper and then he felt it, what he’d been waiting for without even realizing it, the hum of Charles’ power in his mind again, so warm, so perfect. Just like the first night, during their first kiss, Erik heard a litany of _‘Erik, Erik, Erik’_ running through his mind, but this time it felt like right, this time it drove him to move harder and faster, to take everything Charles was giving to him.

It was all so overwhelmingly perfect: his fingers linked with Charles’, Charles rutting his hips back against him, his teeth sinking into Charles’ shoulder, the feeling of Charles in his head, the smooth silky feel of Charles’ cock in his palm as he jerked him off. Perfection.

Erik came with a shout, spurting between Charles’ legs and onto his belly. After a few more firm strokes, Charles followed him over the edge and Erik couldn’t contain the last primitive ‘Mine’ that escaped from his lips.

Exhausted in every way, Erik collapsed, trapping Charles beneath him, nosing at his neck and muttering a string of German endearments in his ear. 

Moments later, Erik startled, as his body jerked and moved without any effort on his part, Charles’ power rolling him over to the side of the bed and off of Charles’ prone form.

“Sorry to wake you, but you’re damn heavy.” Charles murmured. “I think you passed out after...well you know.” Erik watched as Charles flushed.

“After the best sex of my life.” Erik filled in, more than a little stunned he could speak at all. “Yes, that was enough to knock me out.”

Charles’ blush spread, but he smiled. Then he started stretching and arching, obviously working through the discomfort of having been crushed and Erik felt his cock miraculous twitch in response.

“You are the most beautiful things I have ever seen.” Erik sighed into his pillow lacking the energy to move and reach for Charles though he very much wanted to. “And all mine.”

Charles froze in something resembling the downward dog position and then sat up on his haunches and looked down at Erik.

“I didn’t realize you were so possessive.” He commented lightly.

“I didn’t either.” Erik admitted with a frown. “Does it bother you?”

Charles paused to think, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Here, in this room, just the two of us, no it doesn’t.” He said. “Because if I’m yours, than your mine and that’s...balanced and equal.”

“But?” Erik asked, intrigued and apprehensive about Charles’ answer.

“But, out there, in the real world – there I’m my own person. As you are your own person. I will not have you, or anyone, dictate who I am or what I can do.”

Erik smiled. There he was, that tough, determined man Charles hid so well under his shy smiles and genuine desire to please everyone. The man who would enthusiastically let his boyfriend fuck him into the mattress and still put him in his place with a few choice words.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Erik agreed, smile still plastered on his face.

“Good.” Charles smiled back, still frowning slightly as if Erik was a puzzle he hadn’t quite solved. “I have to let Raven know I won’t be back tonight.”

Erik watched, taking in every movement as Charles left the bed and walked out the door.

His body was still thrumming with pleasure, his heart pounding against his chest. Even when Charles came back into the room and settled in the bed, and snuggled up to him, head resting on his chest, Erik couldn’t seem to relax. He had to watch Charles breath. He had to touch his hair. He had to make sure he was here, that this moment was real. Charles was really here with him, he had truly said he accepted Erik, ridiculous possessive outburst and all. Erik’s heart constricted painfully in his chest.

So this was what it was like. This...feeling. So overwhelming it stole his breath and tensed every muscle in his body as if he knew the world was going to try to take it away from him and he was poised for a fight, even now just after he’d found it. Of course it wouldn’t be sweet and simple for him – when had feelings ever been straightforward or easy in his life? When had he ever been able to just let go and express himself?

Erik gazed down at Charles sleeping form. He felt the gentle waft of his breath over his chest. His heart lurched and his breathing stuttered to a momentary halt, but Erik pressed on, ducking his head down to nuzzle at Charles’ hair.

“I love you.” He whispered.

Charles didn’t move, he didn’t so much as stir, but Erik felt some of the coils of knotted tension release in his body. His breathing slowed and his heart finally began to beat in a regular rhythm. His eyes felt heavy and weighed with sleep.

“I love you.” He whispered again, kissing Charles’ head lightly. “I love you.”

Within moments, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I hope my pace from now on will continue to be a chapter every 8/9 days.
> 
> All comments and kudos are treasured like the jewels they are :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is busy, very very busy. Charles does his best to take care of him.

**Chapter 15**

Erik did not generally have an issue with Mondays. They were just like any other day of the week as far as he was concerned. He could never quite understand the feet dragging and complaining of 99% of his peers about his penchant for purposefully scheduling himself 8am lectures on Mondays when he’d been in undergrad. Get it over and done with was Erik’s thought process. The fact that nobody agreed didn’t bother him in the least.

Today though, today he felt he might finally understand what people meant when they said they had ‘a bad case of the Mondays’. His head felt fuzzy and his muscles ached. This morning, he’d felt as if every second of his thirty two years of life was etched onto his body and it hurt.

Erik had though that after a tense day capped off with mind blowing sex, he would have slept like a baby. He had, at least initially. Unfortunately, sometime around 3am, Charles had woken him from a deep and dreamless sleep by thrashing about in bed as if he was being chased by the hounds of hell. It had taken Erik several minutes of wrestling with him before Charles had woken up from his nightmare.

After quite a bit of coaxing, Charles had admitted he’d been dreaming that he’d been caught by the authorities and was about to be deported, much to his horror. Erik, feeling equally troubled by Charles’ nightmare, had ended up with his face buried in Charles’ neck and breathing deeply, trying his best not to get caught up in Charles’ dream and mistake it for reality.

Charles, ever the enthusiastic student, had decided that the most effective way to get over his nightmare was for Erik to teach him the technique for deep throating. Erik had protested half-heartedly (it was the middle of the night), but of course, Charles was impossible to resist. For the following forty-five minutes, they had traded blow jobs back and forth, until Charles reached his goal and swallowed Erik’s cock down to the base, making Erik’s eyes roll back in his head with pleasure.

After, both of them in a happy post-orgasmic haze, Erik had slept again, his body peacefully wrapped around Charles’ smaller form.

Then, he’d unexpectedly been woken up by the buzzing of his phone on the bedside table. Disentangling himself from Charles, Erik had snuck out of the room as quickly and silently as possible.

A quick glance at his phone showed it was currently 5:05am and that her mother was calling. 

“Shit. Fuck.” Erik muttered to himself, closing his eyes tightly.

He’d forgotten to call his mother. For the first time since he’d moved an ocean away, he’d forgotten to call his mother on Sunday. She must be absolutely wrecked with worry. 

“Momma?” Erik answered, feeling waves of guilt wash over him. 

“Erik, Erik are you well? Did something happen?” His mother’s panicked voice replied immediately.

“No, Momma.” Erik admitted. “Nothing happened. Well, things happened, but they’re no excuse for forgetting to call.”

“What happened, my boy? It must have been quite a day to make you forget your mother.”

Erik smiled softly and his body began to relax as he heard the teasing note in his mother’s voice.

“We had some trouble at work. Someone has been pestering mutants on campus, demanding they release research findings and documents and generally being a menace. We filed a complaint against him.” Erik began.

“Good boy!”

“It was good, until he found out about the complaint and threatened Charles and his research partner yesterday.”

“Oh, no! Your poor Charles.” Edie exclaimed. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine Momma.” Erik rushed to reassure her. “But we did...have a bit of a disagreement, sort of a fight, but not really...” Erik drifted off, not quite sure how to explain the misunderstanding he and Charles had had.

“Ah,” His mother said, tone dripping with implications. “I see. You were distracted by matters of the heart and your work.”

“Momma...” Erik groaned.

“You cannot fool me. You think I do not remember what it’s like to be in love? To find someone you can’t stop thinking about, even when they drive you crazy? Hmm. I know about love.”

“Of course you do Momma.” Erik sighed. “But Charles and I just started -”

“Love doesn’t care about time, bubbeleh. If you don’t want to tell your mother you are in love, fine. But a mother knows.” 

Erik rolled his eyes and thought about how thankful he was that this conversation was happening over the phone and not Skype. He was almost a hundred percent sure he was blushing and he didn’t want his mother to see him so obviously undone by her words.

“Maybe I do.” He replied gruffly. “Maybe I love him, but I haven’t told him Momma. It’s too soon, too fast. I have to...I don’t want to scare him away.”

“When the time is right, you will know.” His mother agreed. “But don’t wait too long, schatz. A man like Charles, you shouldn’t make him wait.”

Erik let his mother’s words of wisdom sink in. No doubt she was right – he shouldn’t make Charles wait. Not too long. He wasn’t sure he could wait long to confess his feelings, if he was being honest. The depth of love he felt for Charles was so overwhelming, it seemed to pour out of him in a continuous stream. How could he possibly keep that to himself? Especially from a telepath.

“I’m sorry I called so early in the morning, I was worried.” His mother said, interrupting his thoughts.

“It’s fine Momma, I’m the one who should be sorry. And I’m about to go for my run anyway.”

“I know, my boy. I will let you go. I love you.”

“I love you too, Momma.”

Hoping a run would clear his head and help him feel refreshed despite having gotten less than three hours of sleep, Erik pulled on his running shoes and sweats and left his flat.

The run didn’t help. In fact, it simply made it very clear that Erik had used muscles last night he hadn’t used in ages and they all hurt like the devil. Erik had made it halfway through his usual route before he’d had to limp his way home with a cramp in his calf.

Thankfully, when he’d returned home, Charles had fussed over him and massaged his leg and then made his way to the kitchen to make tea. Lying on the bed, not sure he ever wanted to get up again, Erik admitted to himself that having a boyfriend who wanted to take care of him from time to time was rather...nice. If Erik had felt any lingering annoyance over Charles disturbing his sleep with nightmares, it was now completely gone.

Leaving his incredibly thoughtful boyfriend later in the morning and facing another long line of students and an overflowing influx of emails in his office had been difficult. All day he was bombarded with students coming in for typical counselling issues, plus being consistently barraged with emails, telephone calls and unexpected in person visits from students and even a couple faculty members regarding the Clarke case. The recent fallout had been swift. News, as he’d expected, had traveled fast.

What he hadn’t expected was for so many students to come rushing to him for support. For so many people to turn to him so quickly for answers, for guidance, for a plan of what to do next. Even Hank, who clearly thought Erik was one of the scariest people he had ever had the misfortune to meet, had emailed him three times that day about the previous encounters with Clarke and with confirmation that he had contacted the Oxford Mutant Coalition. Their president had agreed to meet with them on Tuesday to discuss the possibility of Erik presenting a case for mobilizing against Clarke at their next club meeting, which was coming up this Thursday.

It was almost as though people trusted him. Or liked him. Or both.

It was all very unexpected.

On the other hand, Erik had heard not one word from Clarke himself. Clarke’s assistant had sent him a strongly worded e-mail, which Erik had promptly replied to with stronger words, but other than that the man had been completely silent. It seemed Clarke was content to continue his strategy of pressuring young students – he was obviously too much of a coward to face Erik himself.

Halfway through the afternoon, Erik received an interesting phone call from Bernice at the Ethics Office, accusing him of leaking news about his complaint. Erik had gritted his teeth (he could literally hear them grinding together throughout the call), played nice and gave Bernice many reasonable arguments for why he would never leak information about the complaint as it was not in his best interest, nor the best interest of the students he was representing. After nearly an hour, he finally got off the phone with a sense of satisfaction – Bernice had conceded that Erik was not a big enough fool to leak information about the Clarke case and she’d agreed to turn her investigation into the matter elsewhere. She hadn’t outright said that she would question Clarke, but given Erik was in the clear, she had few options but internally within the Ethics Board itself.

By the time Charles poked his head into the office at the end of the day, Erik had his head resting on his desk, head pounding, and he was beginning to have doubts about his ability to drive home without falling asleep at the wheel.

“Come on.” Charles said tugging at his arm gently. “Let’s get you up. You can come to my place for supper. I got some meat on sale on the weekend and I can make...something. You’re in no fit state to go home alone.”

Erik puzzled over Charles’ words as he let the younger man help him into his coat and lead him out the door of his office. Was meat on sale good? Maybe there was something wrong with it. Erik knew he should be more worried about Charles cooking- there was something niggling in the back of his mind saying that Charles cooking couldn’t be good, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment. Right then, going home with Charles and having someone else take care of him sounded like paradise. Except Erik was sure paradise would have a bed, a nice big bed Erik could sleep in. With Charles. Yes, a nice big bed, food, and Charles, that was paradise.

“Here we are.” Charles said, easing Erik into his car. “Once we’re home you can eat and then straight to bed for you.”

Erik smiled dumbly up at Charles. His boyfriend was so smart. It was almost like he could read his mind. Then he giggled, Charles could read his mind! How foolish of him.

“Yes, it’s hilarious. You’re so sleep deprived you sound like a drunken idiot.”

“I am talking? Out loud?” Erik asked dumbly.

“No you great oaf, you weren’t. You’re just projecting very loud, very silly thoughts.” Charles muttered as he buckled Erik into his seat. “I’m starting to think driving might not be the best plan. Perhaps we should take the bus?”

“I can drive.” Erik grumbled. “I could drive this thing with my hands tied behind my back.”

“Yes I’m aware.” Charles answered as he slipped into the passenger seat beside Erik. “I’m less concerned with your hands than I am with your mind.”

“Could drive us home with my hands tied and half asleep.” Erik boasted confidently.

“Very well.” Charles conceded. “But if we’re about to crash I reserve the right to take over by whatever means necessary.” Charles added with a frown.

Erik was proud to say he made it to Charles’ flat without crashing once. He may have swerved a bit wildly to avoid a cat and taken the corners a bit too sharply, but they made it in one piece, no interference from Charles needed. Erik grinned widely at Charles once they were parked, feeling triumphant, but Charles just rolled his eyes and got out of the car without a word.

When Erik finally got himself out of the car (it was far too low to the ground, which Erik hadn’t remembered at all and his legs protested gravely at the injustice of having to work to get Erik standing again) Charles was looking at him with a face full of concern.

“Think you can make it up the stairs?” He asked. “I could get Raven to come down and carry you – she’s much stronger than she looks.”

“I can do the stairs.” Erik replied gruffly.

There was no way he going to let Charles’ teenage sister carry him up the stairs. Every step hurt though and he may have taken a break on the second floor landing for a few moments, but he made it.

Erik sighed with relief, finally finding himself seated on the lumpy couch in Charles’ living room. He closed his eyes, resting them for a minute, listening contentedly to the sounds of Charles rummaging in the kitchen.

Just as he wondered what Charles might make him for dinner and whether it would be edible, or something more akin to the spam he had over the holidays, Erik drifted off to sleep.

* * *

“Your old man boyfriend is asleep on our couch.” Raved stated pointedly as Charles stared at the ingredients on the counter in front of him. “And he’s snoring.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Charles answered distractedly.

What was he going to cook for Erik? They had pasta, they had pork, they had mushroom soup and chicken noodle soup. They had canned peas and mushrooms. And one can of tomato sauce. Did any of these things, when combined constitute a meal? Charles wished, and not for the first time, that he had any sort of culinary skill. Someone had to take care of Erik though and Charles was determined it was going to be him.

“What did you do to him last night Charles?” Raven asked as she poked his side playfully. “Did you keep him up _all_ night long?” Raven arched her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake Raven. The man had a busy day at work. We talked late into the night. Not everything is about sex.”

Charles turned away quickly, hoping Raven won’t notice the flush of his cheeks. Obviously, sex - a couple rounds of magnificent, mind-blowing sex - were at least partly to blame for Erik’s current state, though Charles couldn’t find it in himself to regret a moment of his time with Erik last night.

“Do tomatoes go with mushroom soup?” Charles wondered aloud. “I feel like they don’t. Maybe the peas?”

“No Charles. Cook the pork with some onion...I think we have an onion somewhere.” Raven ducked down to open cupboards until she produced a small onion. “Then add the mushroom soup and put it all on top of the pasta. Viola! Supper.”

“No peas then?” Charles frowned.

“No peas.” Raven said, swiping the can of peas off the counter and putting it away. “Are you going to tell me why your boy toy is passed out on our couch or what?”

“I’ve already told you – work was difficult today. Erik’s been working, well we’ve both been working on filing a complaint. A very major complaint against a faculty member who has been intimidating mutants on campus – I spoke about him briefly last night. We’d barely filed the complaint to the Ethics Office before it was leaked. The entire process is supposed to be confidential and anonymous, but...that isn’t the case now.” Charles exhaled deeply. “This is all very confidential, Raven. The success or failure of this complaint could have a significant impact on Erik’s future at the university.”

Charles tried to focus on chopping the onion in front of him, he really did. Certainly, it was to blame for the tears running down his cheeks. It had nothing to do with the swell of worry that had blossomed in his chest at the thought that Erik could lose everything because of Clarke. He’d been doing well all day suppressing his fears: his fears about being caught and deported, his fears about Erik’s position at Oxford, his fears for Hank and how he would cope if Clarke confronted him again without Charles present. Now, at home, it was hard to keep the anxiety at bay, but Charles persisted. He would be strong, for Raven, for Erik, for himself.

“So, you’re taking care of him.” Raven said softly.

Charles nodded but didn’t respond. He wiped angrily at the tears rolling down his cheeks and attempted to continue chopping through the blur.

“Give it to me, Charles. You know onions never bother me.” Raven said, reaching for the cutting board and pulling it her way. “Go start some water for the pasta.”

“Thank you.” Charles replied, as he ducked down to get a pot.

They worked in silence for several minutes, Charles managing to stop the flow of tears once he was several feet away from the offending onion.

“You don’t have to take care of everyone Charles.” Raven commented after a few minutes.

“I have to take of care of him, today.” Charles replied firmly. “He needs me.”

“And you? What do you need?” 

“I need you to chop onions for me until the end of time. Onions and I do not get along.” Charles answered lightly.

“I’m being serious Charles. It’s been a tough few days, for you, for Erik. You’re crying in our kitchen – and no matter what you say I know it wasn’t just the onions.” Raven added hastily. “So what do you need?”

“I need to make dinner for Erik.” Charles repeated stubbornly. “And maybe go to bed early...with Erik. I may have told him he could stay the night.” Charles finished, not quite meeting Raven’s eye.

“Fine.” Raven agreed. “He can stay the night – but if I hear you guys having sex, that’s it. Never again. My ears do not need to be assaulted by...that.” Raven shuddered in horror.

“I hardly think either of us are going to...” Charles paused at Raven’s cold hard glare. “Erm, well, yes. There will be no...intimate activity.”

“Sex, Charles. You can say sex in front of me, I’m almost eighteen. I’m a worldly young woman about to travel to Paris to have my first international affair.” Raven swung her hair around, in what must have been her best Charlie’s Angel impression.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“No, never.” Raven grinned happily. “I’m going to have sex in Paris and there is nothing you can say about it.”

“And yet I cannot have sex with my boyfriend.” Charles muttered.

“Not where I can hear you, you can’t. That’s the deal Charles – he can stay here and you can fuss over him and coo over him and all that lovey-dovey stuff, but if I hear you guys knocking boots, it’s over. No more boyfriend sleepovers.”

Charles turned to Raven and stuck out his hand: “Deal.”

“I bet you can’t keep your hands out of his pants for the night. Twenty bucks says I’m right.” Raven smirked.

“I am perfectly capable of interacting with Erik in a non-sexual manner.” Charles retorted primly.

“Sure you are, Charles, sure you are. If you think I’ve haven’t noticed Erik is hiding an anaconda in those tight pants of his -”

“Raven!” Charles hissed flushing bright red. “Please do not ever talk about my boyfriend’s penis, ever again.”

“It’s huge, isn’t it?”

Raven laughed as Charles flushed an even deeper shade of red and absolutely refused to answer her no matter how many times she poked him in his side. He didn’t even respond when she started throwing out numbers.

“Seven. Eight. Nine. Jesus Charles, ten? Eleven? That must hurt. Please tell me it’s not bigger than that?” Raven laughed. “I am so going to be twenty bucks richer in the morning.”

Charles groaned. Sometimes, sometimes he just hated having a meddling sister.

* * *

When Erik woke up in Charles’ bed, Charles snuggled up beside him at four in the morning, he could barely recollect how’d he’d got there at all. 

He had a vague memory of being woken up to eat food. Food that had looked like grey sludge, but had been surprisingly tasty. He had a clear memory of Charles beaming at him, positively glowing with happiness after he had given his approval of the meal. He could also remember Raven making retching noises across the table and declaring that Erik and Charles were ‘disgusting’.

After that, his memory of the evening was pretty cloudy. Erik was almost certain that he and Charles agreed, after a great deal of whining, pleading, and generally annoying behaviour, that Raven might learn something if she attended the Mutant Coalition meeting on Thursday night. Now in the dull light of a February early morning, it didn’t seem like something he would agree to, but then again he had been half-asleep and Raven was amazingly persistent – it may have actually happened.

He honestly didn’t even remember making it into Charles’ bed. After a few minutes of deep reflection, Erik thinks he recalls snatches of Charles dragging off his socks and muttering something about how ‘not having sex obviously isn’t going to be a problem’, but nothing more.

Now, as he propped himself up and looked down at Charles’ sleeping form, feeling very alert and rested, Erik decided sex sounded like a lovely idea. A perfect idea. A perfectly lovely idea. Charles cannot possibly have said anything about not having sex – they’d just started having sex, they couldn’t just stop now.  
Confident in his decision making abilities, Erik started taking his clothes off, with gusto. So much gusto in fact, that before he could so much as lean over to kiss Charles, or in fact, before he’d completely taken his boxers off, Charles was awake.

“What are you doing?” Charles hissed.

Erik froze, mid-motion, on his knees on Charles’ bed, his boxers stuck at his knees.

“I think that’s rather obvious.” Erik replied.

“Why are you...I clearly told you we couldn’t have sex!” Charles whispered, panic edging his voice higher than normal.

“You really said that?” Erik paused, disappointment filling him in an instant. “You don’t want to have sex with me?”

Charles huffed out an irritated breath. “Of course I want to have sex with you, I’ve dreamt of little else for the past four months. My sister has forbidden us to have sex in this apartment.”

“You’ve been dreaming about me? For months?” Erik grinned, leaning forward until he was mere inches away from Charles, and then nuzzled his nose into the hair above his ear. “And how is Raven going to know what we’re doing exactly?”

“She has excellent hearing.” Charles replied, his body tense beneath Erik’s, clearly doing he best to resist Erik’s non-too-subtle seduction.

“What if...” Erik began, sitting back on his heels releasing his hold on Charles, his mind churning with ideas. “What if I promised I wouldn’t touch you? What if I promised... _what if I promised I wouldn’t say a word out loud?”_ Erik said, ending his phrase by projecting his words to Charles.

Erik watched Charles closely as his chest rose and fell, his breathing accelerating at Erik’s words.

_“Would that...would that even qualify as sex?”_ Charles project back, his voice a low murmur in Erik’s mind.

_“Hmm.”_ Erik pretended to consider his response. _“If we both come, I think that counts.”_ He smirked as he gripped his cock.

Charles’ eyes widened slightly and he moaned softly.

_“Shh. Quiet.”_ Erik scolded. _“Your turn, liebling. Take your cock out, I want to see you.”_

Charles scrambled to get his boxers off, his eyes never leaving Erik’s face.

_“Good boy.”_ Erik murmured. _“Now...tell me about your dreams, Charles. What have we been doing in your dreams?”_

_“My dreams?”_ Charles asked, looking dazed.

_“The four months of sexual charged dreams you confessed to having. I’d like to hear every little detail.”_ Erik watched as Charles flushed, loving how the colour spread all the way down his neck and onto his chest. _“What were we doing Charles? In your dreams, what were we doing?”_

Charles gave Erik a pained look and finally after several minutes of tense silence, he whispered: _“Everything.”_

Erik growled with pleasure – everything was exactly what he wanted to do to Charles. Absolutely everything.

_“Touch yourself.”_ He urged, his eyelids half closed with lust as Charles’ blunt fingers wrapped themselves around his gorgeous pink prick. _“Perfect, liebling, perfect. Now tell me: what did we do?”_

_“Everything, Erik.”_ Charles answered, sounding strained as if he might explode any second, even though he’d barely had time to touch himself. _“Touching, kissing, licking...fucking. Everything.”_

_“More, Charles. I want more.”_ Erik grumbled, stroking his cock firmly, matching his rhythm to Charles’ own.

_“I...I can’t.”_ Charles moaned desperately. _“It’s...too much. I can...I can show you.”_

Suddenly Erik’s mind was flooded with an all-you-can-eat Charles and Erik pornographic buffet. Images of them in every position, doing everything, just as Charles had described, flashed though his mind at a dizzying pace.

_“Slowly. Slower liebling.”_ Erik pleaded.

Thankfully, the images slowed. Charles on his knees sucking Erik off in the counseling office at Oxford. Charles and Erik frantically kissing and tearing at each other’s clothes in the backseat of his car. Erik bending Charles over the desk in his office, slamming into him so hard the desk was shaking and inching backwards with every thrust. Charles sprawled in Erik’s bed, legs spread wide, naked and writhing as Erik pumped two fingers into his ass.

_“That one.”_ Erik gritted out through clenched teeth. _“Charles...that one. God, my fingers in you,”_ Erik panted and he could hear how uneven his breathing was, even speaking telepathically, _“you want that? You want me inside you?”_

_“Yes, god yes. Erik, please...please touch me.”_ Charles begged, head thrown back, eyes tightly closed, fist working his cock.

_“Look at me.”_ Erik growled. _“Look at me Charles.”_

Charles struggled to move his head, finally letting it drop to one side and opening his eyes. Erik couldn’t help the little moan that escaped him at the sight of Charles’ wide blue eyes staring back at him full of want and need, practically begging Erik to touch, to take. His hand moved faster on his cock, pumping hard and fast and sure. Erik watched in delight as Charles’ hand did the same, the head of his cock swollen and almost angry looking, a vivid red, almost as deep as Charles’ bitten lips.

_“I promised not to touch, Charles. But next time...next time, in my bed, I’ll work you open so slowly.”_ Erik promised, each word a tantalizing caress. _“One finger, two, then three. And when you’re ready, when you’re literally begging me for it, I’ll give you my cock.”_

_“Fuck, Erik.”_ Charles hissed, his eyes still locked on Erik’s, his hand working his prick so fast it almost a blur. _“Ahh... fuck... Erik!”_

Erik couldn’t take his eyes off Charles as he arched his back and came, splattering himself from his groin to his chest. Erik barely took a minute to join him, a few firm strokes was all it took, as Erik leaned forward slightly, painting Charles from stomach to chin in white.

Erik collapsed to the bed, lying close to Charles’ side. With his eyes half open, he trailed his fingers along Charles’ chest, swirling their come together, and scooping it up on his fingers, before bringing them up to Charles’ mouth. Charles, fulfilling his every fantasy as always, opened his mouth, eagerly sucking Erik’s fingers in, curling his tongue around them obscenely. Erik groaned in appreciation, jerked Charles toward him and kissed him, licking his way into his mouth and relishing the salty taste of come on his tongue. 

Detaching himself reluctantly from Charles’ mouth, Erik trailed kisses down to Charles chin, licking up the come he’d marked the young man with minutes earlier, before diving back in for another filthy kiss.

_“So, did that count as sex?”_ Erik asked playfully, still kissing Charles deeply.

_“Fuck yes.”_ Charles replied eagerly. _“Though if Raven ever asks, absolutely not.”_

Erik pulled back and chuckled, his lips hovering above Charles’, a smile on his face.

“I do have to get home soon. Change my clothes, have a shower, be presentable for the office.” Erik admitted, wishing he could stay in bed with Charles for hours longer.

“I know.” Charles answered, his fingers gliding up Erik’s back and then twining into his hair. “It might be best if you left before Raven wakes up anyway. She much less likely to accuse us of improper behaviour if you’re not here.”

“You think so?” Erik smirked, not believing anything would put Raven off razzing her brother.

“A man can hope.” Charles sighed, obviously resigned to his fate.

“Have I told you lately that your mutation is amazing?” Erik asked sincerely. 

Charles flushed and shook his head mutely.

“It is, you know.” Erik kissed Charles cheek softly. “You’re incredible.”

“Is it...are you...” Charles frowned deeply. “You really don’t mind? You don’t mind me, in your head?”

“No.” Erik answered simply. “I like it. You’re welcome to come in anytime.”

Charles smiled and Erik wondered again how it was that Charles seemed to glow when he smiled that genuine, surprised smile. He looked like all his dreams had suddenly come true with one word. It was ridiculously lovely and depressingly sad. Charles had been given so little in his life, he’d had so very few people accept him for who he was, that even Erik, with his hardly impressive compliments and missteps, made Charles happy.

Suddenly feeling rather overwhelmed and also like he wanted to find Charles’ family and punch every single one of them in the face, Erik wrapped his arms around Charles and pulled him in close.

“I have to go.” He whispered in Charles’ ear.

“I know.” Charles replied. “Best if you don’t go to work covered in bodily fluid.”

Erik’s body shook with barely suppressed laughter.

“I’ll see you at the office later?”

“Of course.” Charles answered before pulling Erik down for a kiss.

Erik dragged himself out of bed and hastily dressed himself in his discarded clothes. He ducked himself down for one last kiss from Charles. After one kiss turned into twenty, he finally pulled himself away and practically ran out the door.

As he locked the apartment door behind him and crept down the newly repaired staircase of Charles’ building, Erik couldn’t help but wonder how he’d kept it in. How when the words were sitting there, on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to jump out, had he managed to not tell Charles ‘I love you’?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter - life has been busy!
> 
> Chapter 16 is another long one and I will likely need about a week and half before I can post it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading. I appreciate all of you. To those of you who take the time to comment, I want you know know that I treasure every comment I receive. It totally makes my day to wake up and see a new comment on this fic!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mobilization begins: Erik speaks at the Mutant Coalition Meeting. Clarke has plans of his own.
> 
> Thank you to my betas for all their incredible work. Any mistakes that remain are, of course, my own.

****

**Chapter 16**

* * *

Erik looked across the table at the co-presidents of the Oxford Mutant Coalition and decided to ignore the man, and present the pitch to the clearly dominant personality – Jean Grey.

“We haven’t seen you in a while Mr. Lehnsherr.” Jean said with a tight smile.

Starting with a guilt trip – strong first move. Erik smiled in response.

“The previous leaders of your organization wanted your coalition to be a student run group. They weren’t fond of my attendance.” Erik smirked. “I’ve been known to be slightly disruptive in the past. I’m quite...vocal in my support of mutants on campus. Not all my advice was appreciated.”

“I see.” Jean nodded slowly.

“So why should we let you come back now?” The young man beside Jean asked.

Erik glanced over at the man, the perfect embodiment of a student athlete, except for the visor on his face. He sat, back straight, a look of distaste clear on his face, even with his eyes completely obscured.

“Because I’m here today and I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m going to say at your meeting. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to let me back. But I think you’ll find it’s in your best interest, and the best interest of all the mutants on campus, to let my voice be heard.”

“Hank vouched for him Scott.” Jean said briskly, frowning at the man to her right.

“Have you read the notes on him? He was a menace!” Scott grumbled.

Erik sat back quietly and let them argue. There was no sense interjecting, Erik couldn’t deny he’d been more than a bit disruptive in the past. After several minutes of arguing, Jean turned her attention back to Erik.

“We want to know what’s important enough to bring you back.” She stated simply.

“Professor Clarke.” Erik answered, not quite able to keep the distaste out of his voice.

“Clarke?” Scott’s voice drop low, sounding at least half as angry as Erik felt and Erik couldn’t keep the savage smile off his face.

“I’d quite like your help to eviscerate him.” Erik added, teeth bared.

“If you’re taking on that asshole, I’m in.” Scott declared, sitting back in his chair. “Jean?”

Jean stared at him and it was like she was looking into his soul. Erik kept his expression neutral and his back straight. It didn’t take him long to feel her probing at his shields and Erik held himself still as the difference between Jean’s disorderly probing and Charles calm warmth became more and more pronounced. No matter how long she stared, Erik had no intention of backing down an inch.

“You’re a hard man to read Mr. Lehnsherr.” Jean said after several moments of silence.

“You’re a telepath?” Erik asked curiously.

Jean had felt nothing like Charles, or Emma. To be fair, thanks to Charles tutelage, Erik was much better at shielding these days, but it was still intriguing. Perhaps all telepaths felt different.

“Among other things.”

“She’s also telekinetic.” Scott declared smugly.

“Fascinating.” Erik murmured. “Do I pass?”

Jean nodded sharply: “We’ll see you on Thursday.”

* * *

Charles thought for a moment as the February air hit him clean in the face that he could almost smell the first hint of spring. There was something almost mild and refreshing to the wind today and it signaled change. March was soon approaching and in a little over a month, Raven would be jetting off to France for her epic European affair. Charles couldn’t keep the smile off his lips.

The Clarke issue aside, life was looking rather good at the moment.

Charles picked up his pace and hurried along to his morning class. Intro to Genetics was hardly a difficult part of his teaching schedule, but it was a large audience and Charles liked to be in the room as the students filed in for the day.

Ten minutes later, as he was standing in front of the class, organizing his notes as the students milled about, he heard it.

_‘Fucking mutie.’_

Charles managed to catch himself before he jerked his head up in reaction. Instead he took a long steadying breath before slowly raising his head, smiling casually and nodding as familiar students passed him by. Charles had been teaching this course for over a month now and almost all the minds that hummed around him were familiar and comfortable. Except today, someone was out of tune. Someone’s mind was sharp and angry and far too focused on one thing: him.

Charles did his best to control his breathing as he scanned the rows of students in front of him. It took him less than a minute to find the unfamiliar face, despite the typical chaos of a first year introductory course. It certainly helped that the mind attached to the face was projecting a literal dark cloud of thoughts in Charles’ general direction.

Careful to keep his eyes moving over the students, not stopping even a second on the new face in the crowd, Charles let himself listen to the surface thoughts that were bombarding his shields.

_‘I hate morning lectures’, ‘I can’t believe I slept with John Prescott!’, ‘Clarke wants him gone’._

Ah, there it was. Full of malice and hatred, it stuck out like flame in a dark room once Charles had spotted it.

Charles re-fortified his shields, strode out from behind the lectern and started the class. He would not be cowed by some random stranger in his genetics class. There was nothing the man could do in front of all these people anyway, Charles was literally surrounded by witnesses, most of whom happened to like and respect him.

Charles soldiered on. He lectured. He asked questions. He answered questions. He even told a few of his typically terrible, but still well received, jokes.

And if the man in the crowd was still projecting a wealth of negative, incendiary thoughts ( _‘shouldn’t even be here’, ‘hate them all’, ‘have to prove he’s dangerous’, ‘liar’_ ), Charles refused to let on he had heard a single one of them. It may have been true that by the end of the two hour class he’d had to make his way behind the lectern again to hide how badly his hands were shaking. It may also have been true that his vision was starting to blur slightly at the edges, but he made it through the lecture with a smile on his face.

He clutched tightly to the sides of the lectern as the students exited the classroom. A few students acknowledged him as they left. Charles even somehow managed to get through answering a few questions from Emily, a sweet girl who came to see him after every class with a notebook full of questions based on his assigned extra credit reading list. He was beginning to suspect she might have a bit of a crush on him, as odd as that seemed. Unfortunately, today she was very perceptive.

“Are you okay Mr. Xavier? You look a bit pale.” 

“I’m fine Emily. Just feeling a bit under the weather. Nothing serious.” Charles flashed his best smile.

Seventeen minutes and six questions later, Emily was finally gone and Charles was alone. 

With a shuddering sigh, Charles slide down to the floor as his legs gave way. He sat, his whole body shaking, head pounding and eyes closed, for quite some time. Class had ended at 11:30am and by the time he was able to lift his head and look at the clock, it was almost one in the afternoon.

Charles pushed himself to his feet, holding onto the lectern as he swayed unsteadily. Taking a few deep breaths he thought about what he had to do: he had to walk ten minutes across campus to get to the Counseling Office. He had to get himself together so Erik wouldn’t know he’d almost collapsed. 

Charles pushed himself away from the lectern and headed toward the door.

‘One foot in front of the other’, he repeated to himself on a loop. ‘One foot in front of the other and you’ll get there’

* * *

Something was up with Charles. Erik couldn’t quite decipher what it was, but it was there.

Charles had been almost ten minutes late for his shift. It wasn’t uncommon for Charles to be a few minutes late, but ten minutes was well above average. Charles could be a bit of an absent-minded professor, lost in his studies, unaware of time and then rushing out the door when he realized he was going to be late. But he was never rude, he always made every effort to get where he was supposed to be as fast as possible and he apologized profusely when he arrived. Which he’d done today, several times.

At first, Erik had been annoyed. He’d been about to give Charles a lecture on timeliness and respect, but a closer look at Charles’ face had shut him up instantly. Charles looked like hell – he was pale, even his lips seemed to have had the colour bleached out of them. And he kept shaking, his legs wobbling under him as he walked to his desk, his hands trembling over the keys as he typed in his password.

Erik forced himself to stay calm. He did not rant. He did not demand that Charles explain himself. He may have asked a few pointed questions and quickly determined that despite it being after one in the afternoon Charles hadn’t eaten lunch yet and then sat across from him glaring until Charles took his lunch out and took a few bites. For a man who was always hungry, Charles had a horrible habit of forgetting to eat.

Erik wanted to stay. He wanted to stay and watch Charles eat every morsel and see the colour come back to his face and his hands stop twitching. He couldn’t, of course, there were already students waiting. With no small amount of reluctance, he went to his office and greeted the next student.

Hours later, when five o’clock rolled around and the streams of students through the doors had finally stopped, Erik went out to join Charles. He looked better; he had colour in his cheeks again and Erik couldn’t see any signs of the earlier tremors.

“Are you going to tell me?” He asked as he sat across from Charles, the desk and Charles clutter of papers between them.

“I had a rough morning.” Charles replied. “Thank you for reminding me to eat, it really helped. And the food you made was as delicious as ever. I’m not generally a huge fan of fish, but the salmon was divine.” Charles flashed a charming smile.

Erik frowned. Charles’ answer was so vague and his attempt at veering the conversation away from his earlier condition was not nearly enough to deter Erik.  
“I’m not going to be distracted by flattery.” Erik admonished.

Charles huffed out a breath so hard it made his hair ruffle over his forehead. Had Erik not been so concerned and aggravated it might have been cute. As it was, Erik’s frustration about Charles’ lack of transparency was mounting by the second.

“I wasn’t feeling well earlier.” Charles sighed. “There was someone in my morning class who was...having some very dark, negative thoughts. I did my best to block them out of course, but as I explained before, some people’s minds are stronger and harder to shield. This was one of them. I have to admit after two hours of bombardment, I was rather drained.”

Erik watched as Charles rubbed his temples, as though the mere memory of the morning was affecting him once again. Erik walked around to Charles’ side of the desk and stood behind him.

“Lean your head back.” He instructed firmly.

Charles leaned back, looking up at him with puzzled eyes and a frown.

“Relax.” Erik commanded.

“That’s not how relaxation works, Erik.” Charles muttered, his annoyance clear.

“Just put your head back, close your eyes and relax.” Erik instructed, this time keeping his voice soft and gentle.

Happily, though not without a quick roll of his eyes, Charles complied.

It took less than ten seconds of Erik massaging Charles’ head for him to start moaning. Erik smirked in satisfaction.

“God that’s good, Erik.” Charles groaned, sinking deeper into his chair. “You have magic fingers, my friend.”

Erik snorted. “That is a horrible line, Charles. Please tell me you’ve never used that on anyone else?”

“Err...what line?” Charles asked dreamily, nuzzling his head closer to Erik.

“The one about my ‘magic fingers’.” Erik supplied, still amused.

“Hmm, I suppose that is a line. Completely unintentional. Mmm, that spot right there, oohhh, that feels so good.”

Erik smiled down at Charles, his eyes still closed, mouth slightly parted, face relaxed. It was rather difficult to stay upset about Charles still keeping secrets that he didn’t need to keep from Erik, when Charles responded with such enthusiasm to his every touch. It was impossible to retain any real anger when Charles was melting under his finger-tips.

“When do you have to be at the lab?” He asked softly.

“Five thirty.” 

“You’re going to be late if I don’t let you go soon.”

Erik didn’t remove his hands from Charles’ head, despite his words and the knowledge that he should stop. Once he left the office this afternoon, they wouldn’t see each other until the Mutant Coalition Meeting tomorrow night. 

Erik was not exactly looking forward to a full day without Charles. There was a large part of him that was seriously considering trying to talk Charles out of his planned research push with Hank, where they both had every intention of sleeping in shifts at the lab for the next 24 hours as they made a final push to finish a gene sequencing. He managed to hold his tongue.

Even if Charles wasn’t at the lab, Erik himself had plans tonight with Moira. They were going over his speech for the Mutant Coalition and making up flyers to post around the university later this week to drum up support.

It was hardly unusual for him and Charles to spend a day apart. Erik knew that logically. Emotionally however, with Clarke breathing down the necks of mutant students on campus and having already approached Charles and Hank with verbal threats, Erik was not pleased about the upcoming separation. He had every confidence Charles could take care of himself, but whether he could take care of himself and not reveal his telepathy to the wrong person was less certain.

Reluctantly, Erik slid his finger out of Charles’ hair and leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“You should go. Wouldn’t want to keep Hank waiting.” He said, eyes closed and lips hovering above Charles’ brow.

Charles grumbled, but started to move, carefully sitting back up and then turning his chair around so he and Erik were face to face. Erik watched mesmerized as he stood, leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips.

“Thank you.” Charles said lightly as he pulled back. “I feel much better.”

Erik leaned his head forward until their foreheads were touching and they stood there for several moments, breath mingling, fingers brushing, in silence.

“I have to go.” Charles murmured.

“I know.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the meeting. I’m walking over with Hank and Raven, but I promise,” Charles said, his voice full of determination, “after that, Raven is going home, and I, I will be all yours.”

Erik grinned wolfishly and ducked his head down to nip at Charles’ lower lip.

“I’m looking forward to it.” He said, finally pulling himself away from Charles’ lips. “Now go.” He said, grasping Charles by the arms and giving him a gentle nudge toward the door.

Charles picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder and made his way to the door. Erik stood still behind the desk, watching his every move.

“Goodbye, Erik.” Charles said, halfway out the door, his eyes large and wide.

“Goodbye, Charles. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Erik replied.

And he would see him tomorrow. This was not some last farewell. Erik watched the door close and shook his head – the Clarke situation was playing havoc with his emotions. The faster they were able to rid Oxford of Clarke, the better.

* * *

Raven was almost sure she was radiating with excitement. She’s going to the Mutant Coalition Meeting tonight. She’s going to be surrounded by other mutants, college aged mutants, cool people. She’d have to put up with Charles, and Erik, and Charles’ geeky research partner that she’s never met before, but otherwise she was sure she’d meet interesting people. Mutants who would hopefully find her interesting as well.

Charles had never been much for socializing since they’d left Westchester. He’d avoided mutants more than baseline humans – Raven knew he believed a mutant would be more likely to discover the secret of his mutation. Charles was always paranoid about someone discovering his mutation, he guarded it closely and kept it a deeply buried secret. Raven understood Charles had done what he thought was best, but as a particularly social creature, Raven was more than happy to finally be able to meet more of her fellow mutants tonight.

The bus ride over to Oxford and the walk to Charles’ lab were uneventful. Meeting Charles’ research partner, Hank McCoy had been hilariously awkward. Raven couldn’t help looking over at Charles with a ‘is this guy for real?’ look on her face as he stuttered and blushed through his introduction.

“You have met a woman before, right?” She asked when Hank finally managed to finish introducing himself, which only caused him to blush more deeply and duck his head down. “Geez, Charles I didn’t think there were dorkier people than you, but I guess you learn something new every day.”

“Raven!” Charles scolded. “Surely I’ve taught you that if you haven’t anything nice to say, it’s best to say nothing at all.”

“Oh, back off Charles.” Raven rolled her eyes and turned back to Hank. “Listen, I wasn’t insulting you – it’s a compliment. You’re surprising. I’m not an easy person to surprise.”

“Thank you?” Hank replied cautiously, barely meeting her eyes.

“So are we leaving or what?” Raven asked. “I wanna go meet all the mutants!” 

Charles rolled his eyes in exasperation. “For heaven’s sake Raven, it’s not the circus. Not everyone will be parading about, powers on full display.”

“Well I’m sure you want to go see...” Raven hesitated when she felt both Charles heated glare and a push at her shields – which Charles hardly ever did. “I’m sure you want to go see your boss and hear what he has to say.” She finished carefully.

It suddenly occurred to her, that this was what Charles had been talking about the other night when she’d had to endure a long lecture from him about tonight. He’d been worried she would slip at some point: that she would reveal his relationship with Erik, or his mutation, likely completely unintentionally. Though she often felt Charles’ paranoia was way too extreme, she vowed that for the rest of the night, she was going to be on her best behaviour.

Besides, it might be kinda fun to pretend Erik meant nothing to Charles – especially to Erik’s face.

* * *

Professor Clarke stared pointedly at his assistant, who was squirming slightly in his chair.

“You saw nothing?” Clarke hissed.

“No, sir.” His assistant, Anderson, replied, eyes on the floor.

“He did nothing unusual? Nothing to give away his...aberration?”

“He just lectured, sir. He was completely normal.”

“Did he see you? Were you caught?”

“No, no sir. He didn’t. He glanced over me, like all the other students in the class, but he didn’t notice me.”

“Very well.” Clarke leaned back in his chair. “I want you to keep an eye on him. There is something about that boy...I know he’s up to no good. Whatever we can do to send him back from where he came from, we will.”

“Of course sir.” Anderson nodded vigorously.

“Excellent. I want to know everything he does on campus for the rest of the week. Mr. Xavier shan’t remain a mystery for long.”

* * *

The auditorium for the Oxford Mutant Coalition meeting was packed with people, most of whom were mutants. There must have been at least two hundred people in attendance and the energy in the room was palpable. It should have been invigorating. It should have felt incredible to be surrounded by other mutants – he should have felt a sense of kinship, or excitement. Raven was practically vibrating as she walked alongside him and Charles could feel her mind buzzing with pure joy at seeing mutants with visible mutations mingling with those with invisible ones. Every few moments she would exclaim in delight, grabbing his arm, or squeezing his hand and frantically whispering ‘Look! Charles look!’ as a mutant with a visible mutation walked by.

Charles wanted to revel in her enthusiasm. He wanted to be able to share it with her. He wanted to tell her she should just let herself be – be blue and walk amongst the crowd and feel accepted, as she no doubt would be.

Unfortunately, he was expending every ounce of his strength and concentration on shielding. Mutant minds were often brighter and seemed to naturally draw his telepathy in, as if they were naturally more receptive. Shielding against a crowd of so many minds that felt as though they were actively trying to pull his telepathy outward was overwhelming. And the evening had just begun.

Sensing Charles’ inability to engage, Raven soon turned her attention to a befuddled Hank, asking him questions about the types of mutation he had researched and what powers the mutants in attendance possessed. Thankfully, after a few bumbling responses, Hank relaxed – talking about mutation was one of his areas of expertise – and Charles was happy to see them getting along since he was mostly useless at the moment.

Charles found a place at the side of the room that was less crowded than most and leaned himself against a column. People were still chatting and mingling, but Charles could see movement at the wings of the stage – the meeting was about to begin.

* * *

“What about him? What can he do?” Raven asked excitedly.

“He’s a pyrokinetic.” Hank replied.

“That is so cool. What about him, what can the green guy do?”

“I...uh...don’t think I’ve ever met him. Sorry.” Hank apologized.

“Don’t worry about it.” Raven assured him. “This is just...my school is very mutant friendly, that’s why Charles chose it, but there are only about a dozen mutants and only one of them has a visible mutation and this -” Raven swept her arm out, “this is incredible! I have never seen so many mutants in one place before! Charles must be...hey, where is Charles?”

Raven swiveled around, turning her head around to look in every direction, but there was no Charles in sight. He’d been a few meters to her right earlier, leaning against a column, trying to be unobtrusive, but now he was gone.

“Look,” Said Hank, nodded toward the stage, “Jean is about to start the meeting.”

* * *

The bathroom outside the auditorium was blessedly empty and silent. No more thoughts crashing against his shields, no more minds trying to pull his telepathy in. Just peace and serenity.

Charles was aware that he couldn’t stay squatting on a toilet seat all evening. He didn’t want to – he wanted to get back out there and hear Erik speak. However, realistically if he was going to be able to go back out there and make it through the night, he needed this break.

Charles had attended a Mutant Coalition type group only once before during his first year at Harvard. It had seemed like the right thing to do. Charles wanted very much to support mutant rights and his fellow mutants. He knew that laws and policies needed to change and he felt that being part of that change was important, even necessary. It had taken only a few minutes for him to realize he would never again attend another Mutant Rights group meeting. 

Everyone had been kind, open and welcoming. There had been food and excellent, intelligent conversation. And there had been powers on display all night long. Everywhere Charles turned someone was using their ability and everyone else, himself included, was reveling in it – giving as much positive encouragement as possible. When it had been his turn (not that there had been official ‘turns’ but it was clear he needed to show his talent) Charles had played along, saying he was an empath and ‘guessing’ at people’s emotions. It had been horrible. The compliments others gave him meant nothing. Everything he had to give was a lie, a falsehood presented to protect himself. Charles couldn’t build comradery with these people based on a lie. He’d left the meeting early, pleading illness, and never returned.

Except, here he was today. Not for himself, but for all the mutants at Oxford, and for Erik.

Charles made himself stand and open the latch on the bathroom stall. As he was still alone, he took a few moments to splash water on his face hoping it might relieve the tired look in his eyes.

He left the bathroom and went in a side entrance to the stage, slinking into the wings and hiding himself behind a large crate near the side curtains. He could see a red-headed woman on stage, standing with an easy confidence as she addressed the crowd. Across the stage, almost hidden by darkness, Charles spotted Erik. Moira was by his side holding a stack of papers and Erik appeared to be scanning the crowd with complete focus – likely trying to get a read on the room as the young woman on stage began introducing him as the night’s guest speaker.

Charles waited, barely able to breathe, for Erik to come out on stage. Although he knew generally what Erik was going to talk about, given their limited time together over the past few days, he had no idea what Erik’s speech entailed. Like every other audience member, Charles would be reacting to Erik’s words for the first time.

He watched, his eyes drinking his Erik’s lean body, and his confident, aggressive stride to the podium.

“Hello mutant brothers and sisters.” Erik began, his voice strong and tinged with heat. “Jean has graciously allowed me to speak tonight, despite my past...disturbances.”

Erik flashed that board shark-like grin Charles loved so very much and the crowd chuckled hesitantly. 

“I’m not here to cause any trouble tonight…well not too much anyway. I’m here because of a cause I believe is near and dear to all our hearts – equality for all mutants. Fair treatment of mutants on this campus.

“There is someone, someone with a great deal of power and influence, who has been actively working against mutants at Oxford. He has been using intimidation and persuasion. He has been insidiously poking his nose into the business of mutants throughout this campus with the sole intention of finding a way to get us removed.

“I am speaking of Professor Clarke, our Vice Chancellor. I have had dozens of complaints of his behaviour, from mutants and non-mutants alike. And I am here tonight to say it has to stop!

“No more should mutants walk this campus in fear! No longer should we accept being treated as second class citizens! Mutants deserve better. We deserve to walk this campus unafraid of violence, discrimination, and prejudice. No one, not even the Vice Chancellor has the right to make us feel less than – we have every right to be here and we will not be driven off this campus by one small minded man.

“I am asking you tonight to join me. Join me in my fight against Professor Clarke. Speak out. The time to sit back in silence and hope things get better is over! Pepper the student newspaper with submission about mutant discrimination. Post videos of your experiences with prejudice on social media. Talk to your friends, talk to your professors: tell them about the injustices you’ve faced. It’s time people knew what it means to be a mutant in this society. It’s time they understand how we’re always looking over our shoulders, always waiting for someone to tell us we don’t belong, that we’re dangerous.

“We are dangerous. But so are humans. And we, as mutants, shouldn’t be persecuted for things we’ve never done – for things we might do, or could do, or more likely, will never do at all.

“Let’s show everyone the ugliness that surrounds us. Let’s make it so that no one can deny what’s going on and how it has to change. Let’s find support from every possible source. We have allies on this campus, people who are already fighting for justice for other communities – people of colour, the LGBTQ+ community, people with disabilities. If we band together, our voices will be like a thunderstorm no one can dismiss.

“If you are afraid to speak up, if the risk is too great for you – share your experience with me and I will shout it from the rooftops. I will submit so many complaints to the ethics board they’ll be handling cases of mutant discrimination for the next five years. I will not back down.

“I am asking you all here tonight to put yourselves at risk. At risk of backlash and counter-protest from those who are afraid of who we are, who are afraid of what is different. But I believe the risk is worth it. What we do now, if we can change the tide of prejudice at Oxford, we will not only make this campus better for today, but also for the future. Oxford is an example for universities around the world. If we make change here, we can create change that stretches out around the globe.

“The risks we take today are not just for ourselves, but for all mutants: for our children and their children."

Erik paused and Charles could feel the weight of his words settling over the room. The sincerity of his passion had swayed them. Charles could feel the hum of the minds around him – Erik had got people thinking. Thinking about their experiences with prejudice and anti-mutant sentiment. Charles could feel that pull again, the pull of so many mutant minds and he closed his eyes and refortified his shields.

On stage, Erik took a deep breath and gave the crowd a simple smile.

“I may have let my passion for mutant rights run away from me a little bit, but I stand behind my words. Together we can achieve more. The time when people like Professor Clarke ruled this campus is at an end.

“Jean has said she will table a formal proposal for whether the Oxford Mutant Coalition will formally support my goal to have Clarke removed from this university for prejudiced actions, intimidation of students, and blatant anti-mutant aggression. I hope that you will support me, but the decision is yours and yours alone. If you have any questions for me, or would like to talk further, I can be found Monday through Friday at the Mutant Counseling office. I also have limited hours on Sundays. Thank you.”

Erik took a half step back from the podium, hesitated and then stepped forward again.

“I want to live in a world where we can all be mutant and proud. No more hiding. Who’s with me?”

The crowd roared.

* * *

Walking off the stage, Erik scanned the crowd once more, searching for the one face he wanted to see most, but had no more luck this time then he had before he’d started his speech. As if the world was conspiring against him, the first people he saw after his speech, aside from Moira who’d been standing in the wings the entire speech, were Raven and Hank.

“That was quite impressive Mr. Lehnsherr.” Hank said, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he’d stunned himself by speaking to Erik.

“Thank you Mr. McCoy.” Erik replied with a slight smirk. “Do you think I convinced them?”

“It certainly seems like you have.” He nodded.

“Oh, hey, have you seen Charles?” Raven cut in, her face the picture of innocence.

“No.” Erik ground out. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Oh, you know, a while ago.” Raven replied vaguely.

Erik turned toward Hank and glared.

“We haven’t seen him since before your speech.” Hank confessed immediately.

Just when Erik was about to begin a tirade about how it couldn’t possibly be that difficult to keep track of one person for one single solitary evening, he spotted a pair of bright blue eyes peeking out from behind the stage curtain to his right. Erik felt every bit of his anger and anxiety float right out of his body – he could not keep the smile off his face. 

His grin only widens when Charles smiled back at him, stepped out of the shadows and walked toward him.

“Apparently you’re a hard man to find.” Erik commented when Charles was finally standing within the circle of people surrounding Erik.

“That would be completely my fault.” Charles admitted. “I had to avail myself of the...facilities.”

Erik was sure, from the flush of Charles’ cheeks, that he was telling the truth, or at least some version of the truth. Later, away from all these people, Erik would probe and poke and try to determine why Charles had holed himself in the bathroom, but for now he was just glad that Charles was here. So glad in fact, that he missed the arrival of a new face, as he was much too busy staring at Charles.

“Well Mr. Lehnsherr, it seems you were successful.” Jean Grey said with confidence. “Based on my read of the room, most of our members are very much on your side.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Erik murmured. “We need as much support as we can get.”

“I take it this is your team?” Jean arched her eyebrows, obviously angling for introductions.

“Ah...yes. I’m sure you know Professor MacTaggert and of course Hank McCoy.” Erik began, taking a moment to fortify his shields as Charles had taught him. “And this is Charles Xavier, he’s my assistant, and -”

“And I’m his nosy little sister, Raven who insisted on coming tonight.” Raven cut in, with her usual confidence. “It is totally cool to see so many mutants in one place! Hey do you have any tips for a girl trying to start her own mutant club at her high school, cause I’d love to pick your brain -”

Strangely, Erik found himself feeling grateful to Raven for being her typically annoying self and distracting Jean, keeping Charles well out of her line of sight. At least for a while.

“Your shields are quite...extensive Mr. Xavier.” Jean commented a few minutes later, finally extricating herself from Raven’s questions.

“Jean is a telekinetic and a telepath.” Erik added quickly, wanting to do whatever he could to give Charles an advantage in this unexpected encounter.

“Ah, yes. My apologies Miss Grey.” Charles replied, his tone one Erik was not familiar with at all: it was smooth, entitled, and detached. “I’m afraid I had a… negative experience with a telepath once as a young man in America. As you may be aware, the U.S. government has frequently used telepaths against other mutants. I’ve been working on my shields ever since.”

Erik sensed the truth within Charles’ lie – at some point he had been exposed to some sort of government pressure. Charles had likely told this particular lie before, many times over the years, as part of his fabricated personal history regarding his mutation.

“I see.” Jean cocked her head to the side. “I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered such complete shielding before.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Charles bowed his head in deference. “And, again, it’s nothing personal.”

“You taught your sister and Erik to shield as well?” Jean asked.

“I did.”

“You’re an excellent teacher.” Jean declared. “I’ve never been particularly adept with my telepathy...it has a mind of its own so to speak. I admire your control. What is your mutation?”

“I’m an empath. Not very powerful I’m afraid.” Charles gave a rather sad, self-deprecating smile. “Your mutation is absolutely beautiful by the way – and to have two! Just extraordinary.”

Erik tried his best to tamp down the ridiculous feeling of jealousy that coursed through his veins as Charles complimented Jean on her mutation. He knew rationally that Charles was using charm to keep the attention off himself, and as him and Jean feel into an easy conversation about her abilities, it was clear he was succeeding.

Erik was soon engaged in conversation with Moira – a simple discussion about plans to hang posters and the possibility of extending his office hours should the flood of students be too great for his current availability. It took him a few minutes, as he glanced surreptitiously at Charles from the corner of his eye, to notice how closed off Charles was. His face was open, his eyes clearly interested, but his body told another story all together. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back, he had not stepped an inch closer to Jean, and sweat was starting to pool on his brow.

It took Erik less than a second to intervene.

“Excuse me Jean, but we really should be getting Raven home.” He said, giving her his friendliest smile. “I think it’s almost past her bedtime.”

Raven shot him a truly horrified look and proceeded to scratch at her nose with her middle finger raised. 

Erik ignored her.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Jean answered. “Our members will be able vote on this issue in an on-line poll. We should have the results by this weekend.”

“I look forward to hearing from you.” Erik replied sincerely.

After a quick nod to Jean, Erik grabbed Raven’s arm and started hauling her out of the building. He knew, without even looking behind him that Charles was following, fast on his heels.

* * *

“What was that all about?” Raven demanded, waving an accusing arm toward Erik as they walked across the mostly empty grounds of the university. “My bedtime, Lehnsherr? I haven’t had a bedtime since Charles and I left Westchester.”

“I was getting your brother out of there.” Erik cut in, his anger swelling. “Did you even stop to think about what it was doing to him standing three feet away from a telepath?” Met with Raven’s stunned silence, Erik forged ahead. “No - I didn’t think you were, typical self-absorbed teenager that you are. But I was. So, I got us out of there. I used you as a convenient excuse, which worked, and I won’t apologize for it.”

“You may have been doing the right thing, but you’re still a prick.” Raven retorted. “Your boss is a prick Charles.” She hollered to a trailing Charles.

Raven huffed as she stalked off ahead of Charles and Erik. This whole night had been going so well; meeting other mutants, hanging out with older, mature, cool people, flirting with Charles’ geeky research partner Hank and making him blush fifteen shade of red – it had all been kind of awesome. Until Erik had opened his big mouth and made her out to be little more than a child.

“Raven. Raven! Please, stop.” Charles called out, his voice winded.

Raven stopped, but refused to look back, instead waiting for Charles to catch up.

“What?” She asked pointedly, still annoyed at Erik, and by extension, Charles.

“I know what Erik said in there was poorly worded, but he meant -”

“He meant well. That’s what you were going to say right?” Raven couldn’t contain her anger one moment longer. “As long as he’s protecting you, everything’s okay, is that it?”

“No, no of course not.” Charles protested.

“Who cares about Raven, as long as you get to spend time with your precious new boyfriend!” Raven waved her arms frantically. “Well let me tell you something Charles, your boyfriend sucks! Having your brother just disappear and never spend time with you anymore sucks! I hate it!”

“Raven...” Charles reached out and grabbed her hand gently. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea...I would never want you to feel abandoned. Never. Erik is...Erik means a great deal to me, but he will never replace you in any way. You will always be my sister and nothing will ever change that.”

Raven wanted to scoff at the sincerity that dripped from Charles’ words, but she couldn’t. She could see it in his eyes; he meant every word. The thought of her feeling rejected was eating him up inside.

“I...can you just come home with me?” Raven asked, peaking over at Charles hesitantly, feeling adrift and a bit lost.

Their relationship had always been so easy, so close, but now Raven wasn’t sure were she stood with Charles anymore. Would he even chose her over Erik?

“Yes.” Charles stepped close and grasped both her hands between his own. “Yes, of course I can. Give me a minute to talk to Erik, let him know about the change of plans and then you and I will head home. We can pick up some kebabs on the way back, and when we get home, you can pick whatever movie you want to watch. We’ll eat on the couch and watch together – just like we always used to do.”

“Any movie? Even if I make you watch Spice World again?” Raven teased.

“You cannot blame a man for protesting against viewing Spice World for the fiftieth time, but if that’s what you want to watch, I will do it.” Charles confirm with a grin.

“Well...fine then. Go talk to lover boy.” Raven motioned to where Erik was standing, a few meters away from them. “But I expect you back in five minutes.”

“Yes ma’am.” Charles replied with a jaunty salute.

“And you tell that jerk over there that I haven’t had a bedtime in years – you got that! I don’t have a bedtime asshole!” Raven shouted her middle fingers thrust high in the air.

As she should no doubt have expected, all Erik did was shrug, smile that ridiculous shark-like grin of his and flip her off right back.

* * *

Erik had a sinking feeling that his night with Charles was coming to an end. Even standing several meters away, trying to give the siblings their privacy, it was clear that Raven was upset and that Charles was consoling her. The odds that Charles would be coming home with Erik for a marathon love making session were dwindling by the second.

When Erik watched Charles clutch Raven’s hands between his, he knew it was hopeless. Tonight, Raven had won the right to Charles’ time and there was no way for Erik to protest Charles spending time with his sister without coming off as an absolute jerk.

Erik rubbed his hands down his face and did his best to curb his frustration.

Grown men did not get jealous of their boyfriend’s little sisters. Mature adults were able to share their partners with others - they did not hate every minute spent apart. Erik was determined to be a mature adult tonight. Well, he was determined to be a mature adult after he returned Raven’s one finger salute with one of his own.

“Is it really too much to ask that you and my sister try to be civil?” Charles asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he walked up to Erik.

“She started it.” 

“With such maturity on display from you both, all my worries have been erased.” Charles replied glibly.

Erik smiled in return and had to clench his fists at his sides to keep from reaching out and touching Charles.

“I take it you’re going home with Raven.”

“Yes.” Charles looked down at his feet. “She’s feeling a bit abandoned. There’s never been anyone in my life who’s pulled my attention away from her before - adjusting to that will take time. For both of us.” Charles sighed.

“For all of us.” Erik murmured.

Charles looked up at Erik, a soft fondness in his eyes.

“I told Raven I’d only be a few minutes.” Charles shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Before I go, I just wanted to say: your speech tonight...it was incredible Erik. I cannot tell you how inspiring it was to see you up there, to feel the entire auditorium responding to you, it literally gave me shivers!” Charles’ voice pitched up with excitement.

“Shivers?” Erik commented, brow arched.

“Shivers.” Charles confirmed. “Standing there in the wings, watching the man I love changing minds one word at a time...well if was possible to be any more besotted than I already am, I think it would have happened.” Charles beamed.

Erik knew he should say something. He even knew exactly what he should say – the three little words he’d been meaning to say for some time. Unfortunately, his brain had short circuited the moment after Charles had said ‘the man I love’.

“Well, I should be off.” Charles said cheerily. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Erik.”

“Yeah...” Erik trailed off, watching as Charles trotted off across the lawn and linked his arm into Raven’s.

Charles loved him.

Erik wasn’t sure how long he stood there on the otherwise empty Oxford lawn. All he knew was that it was long enough for him to decide once and for all that the next time he and Charles were alone together, he was going to tell him how much he loved him. There was simply no reason to wait any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who is reading and leaving comments and kudos - it means so very much to me.
> 
> I once said I thought this story might be about 20 chapters and based on where I am right now, I think I'll need a few more than that. I don't anticipate going over 25 chapters though.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles finally get some time alone together. Will Erik finally confess his feelings?

****

**Chapter 17**

_Romance._

Erik thought he had some experience with relationships and, therefore, romance. He’d begun to realize over the last twenty-four hours, that though he’d been in a relationship with Magda for five years, he had not learned anything about romance. In fact, when he wracked his brain to think of anything ‘romantic’ he’d ever done for Magda, he remembered that he had declared his love for her in the middle of a fight of epic proportions.

Ever since Charles had left him on Thursday night and gone home with Raven, Erik had thought of little else but his upcoming plan: telling Charles he loved him. He wanted it to be romantic, not something he shouted in anger during a screaming match. Charles deserved something special, something Erik was rather hoping he’d remember fondly for the rest of their lives.

The problem was, he had no idea what to do to set the mood for a heartfelt declaration of love. Should he buy flowers? Did men like getting flowers? Erik couldn’t quite imagine someone ever getting him flowers, and he wasn’t sure how he would feel if they did. Maybe chocolate was a better bet. Charles loved food. Except chocolate seemed so cliché and considering how many times Erik had made desserts from scratch for Charles, buying chocolate seemed… lazy and impersonal. Poetry? Erik felt a frisson of fear run up his spine at the thought of composing something for Charles. He could barely understand the depth of his own feelings for Charles and they scared the shit out of him sometimes. Writing, poetry or otherwise, did not feel like the right choice. Erik thought about buying Charles something special, like jewelry, or some sort of physical token of his affection, but for all Charles’ past years of wealth, he seemed to care little for material goods.

Erik was at a loss.

He’d seen Charles during office hours today, but only briefly. As expected, the Counseling Office had been buzzing with activity thanks to the impact of Erik’s speech. It seemed Erik’s new reality was being so busy during his office hours he barely had a chance to look at Charles, let alone talk to him, or play a game of chess. He felt like he was going through chess withdrawal – he had moments where his fingers itched to get the board out, yell at everyone to leave him the fuck alone, and then sit down across from Charles and have a match. He never did it, of course, but it was a nice daydream. Especially in those moments when first year students were crying (why were they always crying?) across from him about… something.

In the few moments they had had together, Charles had explained that he was busy with Raven tonight – her school was hosting a parent information night for the trip to Paris, and Charles was Raven’s ‘parent’, so he had to attend.

Determined to get some quality time with his boyfriend, Erik had asked if Charles could come over on Saturday for dinner, with the unspoken implication that he could also stay the night. And the next day, and maybe even the day after that. Erik would have been fine if Charles never left, though he knew that desire would be unfulfilled for some time.

Charles had readily agreed to dinner. He had flashed one of those absolutely radiant smiles of his, and Erik had been glad he was leaning against his desk, because he could have sworn he went weak in the knees. God Charles was beautiful when he smiled.

Unfortunately, Erik was now home, early on Friday evening, in a panic about what to do tomorrow. How could he show Charles how he felt? How could he give Charles the romance he so richly deserved?

Before he could even think about what he was doing, he pulled his phone out and pressed on his top contact.

After only two rings, a voice answered: “Erik? Is that you schatz? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, its me Momma.” Erik responded, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears.

“What do you need, my boy?”

“Momma...how did...when did Papa tell you he loved you?” Erik asked, surprising himself with the words that escaped his mouth.

“He told me on the bus.” His mother sighed fondly.

“The bus?” 

The bus didn’t sound terribly romantic, but given how his mother had sighed and then fallen completely silent as if reliving the moment through her memories, he supposed it must have been romantic in some way.

“And it was...romantic?” He asked hesitantly.

“Of course it was!” His mother exclaimed. “He whispered in my ear that he loved me as we rode the bus home, and then he got off with me at my stop – even though he should have kept going on the bus like he always did, and he walked me home. He said, and I will never forget this Erik, he said ‘I wish we were walking home to our house and I never had to say goodbye’.” His mother paused and when she continued her voice was thick with emotion. “It was terribly romantic. We were married three months later.”

“That does sound… nice.” Erik finished lamely.

It sounded so much more than nice, it sounded like something his father would do: confident, determined, willing to take a risk and show his heart. His father had been a practical man, but one with a deep well of affection for his wife, his son and his community. The memories of his father, so often buried, burned in his chest.

“What makes you ask about love, bubbeleh?” Edie asked. “Is it about your Charles?”

“Yes.” Erik sighed. “I want to tell him that I love him, but I want it to be special and nothing I come up with seems right. Charles deserves… he deserves to be with someone who can give him romance, but I just can’t… I can’t do it Momma. I don’t know how to do this.”

“Romance, love – it isn’t about things my boy. Or grand gestures like in the movies. It’s about… taking a chance. It’s about being vulnerable. If you tell Charles how you feel, how you truly feel, it will be romantic. There is no way it couldn’t be.” 

Erik didn’t know how to respond. He could only let out a shuddering breath full of self doubt and uncertainty.

“You are enough Erik. Just you and your words and your feelings. If your Charles loves you, it will be enough. It will be special because it is you.”

“Momma...” Erik whispered, frowning down at his dining room table, his head hung so low it nearly touched his arms.

Charles had, sort of, said he loved him the other day. He hadn’t said the words ‘I love you’ exactly, but what he had said was ingrained in Erik’s brain and seemed to pop up and play on a loop at random moments. He wanted to give Charles something that was at least half as memorable and earth shattering as that had been for him.

“You’re saying I could say anything and he’d like it?”

“No, no, of course not, you silly man.” Edie chuckled. “I am saying if you speak from your heart, he will hear it. And if his heart feels the same… well then, that is all you need. No fancy gifts, or flowers, or extravagant displays – just love.”

“You are a romantic Momma.” Erik commented, his voice teasing.

“Hmm, yes I am. And you my boy, are my son – there is romance in you too. You may have buried it deep inside you, but it is there. I hardly think a man who cooked meals for his boyfriend for weeks before they were even dating is a cold hearted man.” Edie admonished. “Have faith in yourself.”

“Yes, Momma.” Erik agreed reluctantly.

He still had his doubts; the idea of confessing his love for Charles felt both necessary and terrifying. He did feel slightly less pressure now. He was less focused on the need for a grand gesture and more concerned with having the right words to say.

“It isn’t easy to hold your heart out to someone else and see if they will reach out and take care of it, but when it is right… oh schatz, when it is right, love is the greatest gift. I believe in you, my boy.”

“Thank you, Momma.” Erik replied, his love of his mother swelling in his chest.

“We’ll talk again on Sunday, yes?” Edie asked. “And you will tell me how things go?”

“If things happen, I will tell you Momma.” Erik answered.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Momma.”

Erik hung up the phone and let his head drop and rest on his arms. He didn’t need roses, wine and chocolates. He wasn’t going to spend tomorrow morning running around town to buy Charles some ridiculous piece of jewelry, or finding enough candles to light every inch of his bedroom.

Maybe he should read some poetry? No – he mother had said the words should come from the heart, his heart, not some long dead poet who’d never even met Charles. Poetry was not going to help him. Apparently even a conversation with his mother hadn’t helped him all that much.

He was hopeless. Absolutely fucking hopeless.

Erik sat there, head buried in his arms, and cursed himself for being so emotionally stunted. 

All of a sudden it came to him – the perfect thing. Erik pushed himself away from the table, grabbed his coat and walked out the door.

* * *

Charles rested his head on the arm of the couch and sighed. He often relished the quiet of being home; the limited number of minds, the familiarity of the environment, the serenity of only sharing his personal space with Raven. Today he needed it all. His head was pounding, for what felt like the sixth day in the past week and the comfort of home was the best medicine he could find.

“Hey,” Raven said softly, sitting down beside him. “I brought you some water and Tylenol. You don’t look good.”

Wonderful. He looked so awful even a generally self absorbed teenager could tell he wasn’t feeling well. Charles mentally shook himself – he was being unfairly harsh and unaccountably rude. Raven, like any teenager, had her moments of vanity, but she’d always cared about him. 

“Thank you.” He said as he opened his eyes and reached out to take the offered glass and pills.

“You’re not having second thoughts about Paris, are you?”

Ah, and there was the slightly self centred teenager.

“No, no I’m not. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.” Charles answered. “The meeting tonight was informative and your itinerary looks excellent. Your trip to Paris will be excellent, I’m sure.”

Charles smiled tightly and let out a breath as Raven sat back, relaxing into the couch.

He truly wasn’t worried about Paris. As expected, Raven’s school had planned everything down to the minute and they had two teachers and three parent volunteer chaperones who would be traveling with the students. It all appeared to be very much under control.

No, the problem hadn’t been the trip at all. The problem had been that all day today, Erik had had mutants streaming into his office, including one Jean Grey. Then the meeting at Raven’s school had included a few more mutants, though thankfully, no telepaths.

Charles was exhausted from the extensive shielding. Specifically, he was knackered from trying to avoid detection from Jean. 

Charles had not had much experience meeting other psionics. He had a few encounters as a child (the story about the government using psionics against other mutants was completely true), but in his day to day life, he’d never met a telepath who was even close to as powerful as he was. Jean Grey was powerful. She might be more powerful than any mutant Charles had ever encountered. However, she lacked control, particularly when it came to her telepathy. She relied much more on her telekinesis and, luckily for Charles, her telepathy remained underdeveloped and raw. The power was there, but she lacked the skill to manipulate it effectively.

There was a part of Charles that deeply wanted to help her – he’d spent years honing his own skills, mostly to suppress them unfortunately, but also to use his telepathy as a precision tool. To be able to openly share his knowledge with someone else was tantalizing. It was also terrifying. Terrifying to think that one small slip was all it would take for Jean to realize Charles was not at all who he presented himself to be.

It was so terrifyingly dangerous in fact, that Charles was desperately trying to think of excuses he could give to both Hank and Erik for why he shouldn’t attend any Mutant Coalition Meetings again… ever. Convincing Erik likely wouldn’t be that much of a problem. Hank however, with his recent excitement and enthusiasm for the cause and the involvement of the Mutant Coalition, would be much harder. Charles sighed, loudly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Raven frowned at him from the other side of the couch.

“I’m just… I’m still really troubled over the events in Spice World. How did that bus jump over the gap in the bridge? It defies the laws of physics. Can you really be fined for ‘Flying a Bus without a license’? It plagues me Raven, it plagues me.”

“Oh, fuck off Charles.” Raven kicked out at him, landing a painful blow to his knee that had Charles wincing in pain.

“Ow. That was uncalled for – you know I was teasing.” Charles protested.

“Teasing me about my favourite horrible movie Charles. We all get to love at least one horrible movie – and you don’t get to make fun of it.” Raven asserted, nose in the air.

“What’s my movie? Do I have a favourite horrible movie you’re not allowed to make fun of?” Charles wondered.

“Well there is that one that puts me to sleep every time you want to watch it – I think that counts.” Raven rolled her eyes.

“I shall never understand how you fall asleep during Encino Man. It’s clearly a masterpiece.”

“It is… something. Pauly Shore in general is… well I could live a lifetime without ever seeing him again and I would be happy.” Raven sighed. “I will say it was my first big clue that you weren’t just into girls – you must have watched that movie about twenty times when you were thirteen.”

“Brendon Fraser coming out of that block of ice may have been my sexual awakening.” Charles admitted. “I promise not to watch it again in your presence.” Charles promised, suddenly feeling absolutely exhausted and like he possessed not one ounce of energy to argue with Raven any longer, even if they were mostly teasing and hardly fighting at all. “I’m going to bed.” He declared.

Charles pushed himself off the couch with some effort and stumbled his way to his room. He managed to shuck off his pants and his button down and then collapsed on his bed, and sunk into a deep, dreamless sleep within seconds.

* * *

Raven couldn’t believe she was even thinking about texting Erik. She was still mad at the jerk after all. But she’d snuck into Charles’ room to snatch his phone and grab Erik’s number and she was now staring down at the screen, fingers hovering, trying to figure out what she should text to Charles’ ridiculous over-protective asshole boyfriend.

In the end she decided she should trust her instincts.

Coming home from her Saturday shift at work to find Charles sleeping on the couch, dead to the world, was not good. Erik had to know something was up.

_‘Hey. It’s Raven. Just wanted to give you a head’s up that Charles is a bit...off today. It might be a good idea to go easy on him tonight.’_

Raven stared at her text for a moment, hoping it didn’t sound like she was trying to give Erik sex advice (gross) and then pressed send.

It took less than two minutes for Erik to respond.

_‘What do you mean by off?’_

_‘I mean its 2pm and he’s passed out on the couch.’_ Raven replied.

Not only was Charles passed out on the couch, but he had a stack of student papers piled beside him that looked almost the same as when she’d gone to work five hours ago. All of which meant Charles had likely fallen asleep only a little while after she’d left and now he’d was behind on his grading. 

However, Raven was more concerned with the fact that Charles had gone to bed early last night and possibly had a four hour nap today – all signs that pointed to another very bad migraine.

As she was peering over the back of the couch, trying to see if Charles was pale, or clammy, or any of the other signs that indicated he was feeling particularly poorly, her phone buzzed loudly in her pocket.

Raven cursed under her breath and tip toed as quickly as she could to her bedroom glancing back behind herself to see if the noise had woken Charles – thankfully not.

Once her door was closed she took a look to see who was calling and proceeded to roll her eyes.

“What do you not understand about ‘Charles is passed out on the couch’, Lehnsherr?” She hissed as soon she answered the call. “Did you want to wake him up?”

“What I want is a better explanation for your text.” Erik replied, completely side-stepping Raven’s words. “What do you mean he’s been off? I want details.”

“And why should I do that?”

“You were the one who texted me in the first place, you want to tell me – so tell me.”

Raven took a moment to look at the ceiling and try to quell the rising anger inside her – Erik Lehnsherr was insufferable. 

“Listen up asshole, cause I’m only going to say this once: I’m worried about Charles, okay? He went to bed early last night, he’s napping again today, he’s been having headaches. So, I think he’s building toward another one of his “passing out from whatever the fuck it is that drains him so much” things. And I thought you should have a heads up. So that’s it, alright. Whatever you were planning on doing tonight, just… keep in it mind that he might collapse on you, you fucking insensitive goober.”

“Did you just call me a goober?”

“That’s what you got from that?” Raven balked. “Fuck you Lehnsherr, I hope you fall in a pit and die.”

“You know I care about Charles too, right Raven. It doesn’t matter how many times you insult me or how much you dislike me, I will always care about Charles.” Erik replied calmly. “It’s good you called. You’re a good sister.”

“I know that.” Raven sniffed indignantly, Erik was not going to succeed in buttering her up with compliments. “The question is whether you’re a good boyfriend.”

“I don’t know what you think I was planning to do to your brother, but my intention was to make him dinner.”

“Make him dinner?” Raven repeated, feeling skeptical.

“Yes, I like to feed him – he doesn’t eat enough good food.”

Raven was about to protest and say she and Charles could take care of themselves, but the sincerity of Erik’s voice and the truth behind his comment stopped her. For all she still felt uncomfortable about Erik specifically and Charles being in a relationship in general, she couldn’t deny that Erik seemed to care very much about Charles’ physical well-being. He had brought him home, carried him up the stairs and refused to leave until he’d recovered after he’d passed out. He’d also, according to Charles, been feeding him meals for months, and making him lunch every day since they started dating. Raven grudgingly had to admit the man did have some redeeming qualities. She also had to admit she and Charles did not have the worlds best eating habits.

“Fine.” She agreed. “Feed him. Just watch him okay? I feel like he’s...on the edge or something.”

“I will.” Erik said seriously. “And Raven,” Erik added quickly, “if you ever have something like this to share again, ever, text me. If something is wrong with Charles, I want to know.”

“Was there a ‘Thank you Raven’ hiding somewhere in there?” Raven asked pointedly.

“You’re a brat.” Erik grumbled. “But yes, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Raven answered primly. “And if I noticed anything again, anything strange going on with Charles...I’ll let you know.” Raven agreed with some reluctance.

“Good.” Erik said firmly.

“I’m done talking to you now. This is weird.” Raven scowled. “I still don’t like you and I will castrate you if you hurt Charles in any way, you grumpy jerk.”

“Good bye, Raven.”

In typical Erik fashion, Raven found that he’d hung up before she could say anything else.

“Fucker.” She muttered to herself.

She hated to admit it, but at least now she felt less worried about Charles. It was annoying, but true: Erik would take care of him. Though her feelings about Erik remained conflicted, she had to say it was...nice to know she wasn’t the only one looking out for Charles.

* * *

Something was wrong with Erik. Charles couldn’t quite put a finger on exactly what it was, but something was wrong.

Charles had arrived at Erik’s flat just a few minutes after 5pm with a bag full of papers. When he’d explained (and apologized) to Erik about still having papers to grade, he hadn’t been upset. He’d merely kissed Charles on the forehead, told him to set himself up where ever he was comfortable and get his marking done while Erik made supper. Charles had been sure, given how limited their time together had been recently, that Erik would have been annoyed, but apparently not.

Erik hadn’t even come into the living room that often to check on him. When they were alone, like tonight, safely ensconced in Erik’s flat, Erik generally never left Charles to his own devices for longer than a few minutes at a time. Erik liked to be physical close – he liked to touch, he liked to look, he liked to _be_ together. For Erik to disappear into the kitchen to cook for an hour and only pop into the living room a couple times to walk by, ask how Charles was doing, bring him water, and kiss his head was...odd.

He also hadn’t complained about Charles’ shielding – which was a glaring sign that something was up. Erik always asked Charles to drop his shields. He sought out the contact with Charles’ telepathy these days, which Charles cherished beyond measure. However, given his recent issues, Charles had strong shields in place and had barely even brushed against Erik’s mind all evening, but had received no request from Erik to drop his barriers.

Charles was beginning to suspect that Erik was hiding something.

Half an hour ago they had finished a truly divine dinner. Erik had made Masala Scallops that had melted in Charles’ mouth like butter and made him moan obscenely, which had caused Erik to give Charles the only genuine smile he’d shown all evening. When the food was done, Erik had immediately shooed Charles back into the living room, saying he should finish his paperwork while Erik did the dishes. Charles had finished grading ten minutes ago. Erik still had not emerged from the kitchen.

The ten minutes alone with his thoughts, no papers or grading to keep himself in check, had been torturous. Charles was now sitting on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest, completely convinced Erik was about to break up with him.

The signs were so obvious: Erik had invited him over tonight, but didn’t want to spend any time with him. Erik didn’t want Charles in his head because he didn’t want him to see how he didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t want Charles to know how he’d fallen for somebody else entirely. Yes, clearly Erik had met someone in the past week while Charles had been distracted and distant and terrified. Probably someone at the Mutant Coalition. A mutant who wasn’t afraid of their powers, a mutant who didn’t hide things from everyone, a mutant Erik could be proud to be with.

Oh god, Charles rocked slightly on the couch, biting hard on his lip to try and keep from crying, Erik was going to break up with him. Of course Erik was going to break up with him – Erik shouldn’t even have been with him in the first place, he never deserved someone like Erik. Someone so determined, so capable, so physically perfect. Charles was clearly far more trouble than he was worth and Erik had finally realized it and now…now this whole thing, these perfect few weeks of having a boyfriend, of feeling like someone might finally love him for who he was, for exactly who he was, was over.

What was he even doing here? Charles wondered. 

If he stayed here one moment longer, he was going to absolutely lose it. Charles knew without a doubt what he had to do – he had to leave. Right now. Before he made a fool out of himself by sobbing in front of Erik and begging him to give Charles another chance.

He was halfway to the door when he heard Erik’s voice.

“Charles? Where are you going liebling?”

Charles opened his mouth and tried to make words come out, but instead he felt a sob bubbling up inside of him and he clamped his mouth closed as quickly as possible. Despite his best efforts, a pained moan escaped him as he took another step toward his coat, refusing to look back at Erik.

“Charles?” Erik asked again, his voice strained and confused.

When Erik touched his shoulder, Charles shuddered. He could feel it – the pulse of his emotions crashing against his shields, a wave of despair pushing to be released. He staggered, suddenly off balanced literally as well as emotionally.

Charles felt Erik grip his arms, pulling him closely into his body to steady him. Charles weakly tried to push himself away with his hands, but his traitorous body simply wouldn’t respond and within moments his legs gave out, causing both him and Erik to slump gracelessly to the floor.

“Charles!” Erik’s voice sounded strange now: too high, too fast, all wrong as it echoed through Charles’ ears. “Tell me what’s happening… what do you need me to do Charles?”

“Let me go.” Charles got out, but his voice sounded slurred and muffled.

Charles felt another crash of emotion hit his shields and he moaned. He tried to bring his hands up to his head, but Erik got there first: his strong fingers rubbing at Charles temples and brushing through his hair. So soft, so gentle.

Charles groaned – why hadn’t he had the strength to get out the door? How could he be here, with Erik touching him so carefully, when he knew Erik didn’t want him anymore? How could he bare it? 

Hot tears streamed down his face as Charles made another fruitless attempt to dislodge himself from Erik’s embrace.

“I’m not letting you go, Charles. You have to let me help you.” Charles could hear Erik’s struggle to remain calm in the tone of his voice. “Please, let me help you.”

Charles lifted his head and looked at Erik. Though his vision was hazy he could see Erik’s frown, his wide troubled eyes, and his pinched lips. He wondered if this was it – was this the last time he was ever going to look at Erik’s face and see any sort of affection there?

It was that thought, the finality of it all, that did it. It cracked his shields and for a moment, just a moment, a fraction of a second, everything came pouring out.

* * *

The evening was going nothing like Erik had hoped it would. Raven’s warning had put him on edge and he couldn’t help but think that any little thing could be what tipped Charles over the edge. Whatever happened tonight, Erik was determined that he wasn’t going to be the reason Charles passed out, not again.

The problem of course, was that he’d asked Charles to come over for a romantic evening and now he was afraid to get close to Charles at all. 

At first, Erik thought things were going relatively well. He’d let Charles set himself up with his papers while Erik cooked. He’d spent more time sneaking peeks into the living room to make sure Charles was still upright and conscious then he had in front of the stove, but he was proud to say he only went into the room to bother Charles a few times. It had been incredibly difficult to resist sitting down on the couch with Charles and pulling the smaller man into his arms and confessing his love right there and then, but somehow, he’d managed to stop himself.

Though Erik loathed waiting any longer, clearly now was not the time to overwhelm Charles with emotional confessions.

They’d made it through dinner and Charles had clearly enjoyed the food, despite the tired look in his eyes. Erik had been reluctant to let him go, but he knew Charles wasn’t going to relax unless his work was done.

Now, Erik was standing in the kitchen, rolling his creation between his fingers. Even though he’d worked on the bracelet most of the night, it still didn’t feel perfect and he kept running his fingers along it, smoothing it out with his powers, obsessing over every microscopic imperfection. Erik knew he couldn’t give it to Charles tonight – tonight Charles needed to rest. He slipped it back into his pocket with a sigh and stepped out of the kitchen.

He stopped short when he found Charles walking to the front door.

“Charles?” He asked completely confused as to why his boyfriend appeared to be leaving in the middle of their date night.

Charles didn’t answer, but Erik watched with growing concern as his legs wobbled and Charles staggered, clearly unsteady on his feet. He could see Charles’ face was pale and his cheeks were flushed. Erik knew in an instant he had to get Charles back to the couch, or maybe even the bed. Despite all his good intentions, it looked like Charles was about to pass out from another migraine.

Erik was reaching out and grabbing Charles within seconds. He was horribly confused by Charles’ resistance, but he persisted – clearly Charles was so far gone he didn’t know what was good for him. Erik was fighting hard to keep the panic from rising within him, as Charles continued to try to move away from him, despite Erik murmuring words of assurance in his ear and his gentle touches of the younger man’s head.

Erik was starting to get a sinking feeling that Charles was genuinely trying to flee, that he wanted to leave Erik’s apartment for some reason, when Charles suddenly collapsed entirely, taking them both to the ground in an instant.

Erik couldn't contain his panic any longer. He touched Charles’ forehead and found it burning. He stroked his way down Charles’ face and found it wet with tears. He pleaded with Charles to tell him how to help him, but Charles appeared to have lost the power of speech sometime in the last few minutes. He grumbled and groaned, but couldn’t seem to get anything coherent out, at least nothing that Erik could understand.

Feeling frantic and helpless, Erik clutched Charles closer to him.

“Come on liebling.” Erik whispered. “Let me help you.”

When Charles moved in his arms, slowly raising his head and meeting his eyes, Erik felt his heart stutter. Finally, something had gotten through to Charles, maybe everything would be alright after -

_Pain. Rejection. Doesn’t want me. No one ever wants me. Clarke. Terror. Jean. They’ll find me. Hide. Hide. Hide. Despair. Erik. Leaving me. Someone else. Someone better. Not me. Not good enough. Never enough. Never._

It felt like hours before the onslaught of emotions and thoughts ended, though realistically it must have been seconds. When Erik finally regained control of his own body, he found himself lying on the floor next to Charles, his hand still firmly grasping onto Charles wrist.

“Charles?” He asked, voice stratchy and rough.

Charles’ head flopped listlessly to the side, his eyes unfocused, but partly open. Erik mustered up all his strength and rolled over, inching himself as close to Charles as he could get. He let go of Charles’ wrist and slipped his arm under the smaller man’s head, propping him up slightly and wrapped his other arm firmly around his middle, anchoring himself against Charles’ body.

When he felt Charles hand clutching at his shirt, Erik leaned his head down and took a long deep breath, inhaling the scent of Charles’ hair, trying to steady himself. 

“I want you.” Erik croaked out, his hand tightening around Charles. “Charles, I… I love you. I love you and there’s nobody else, just you. It’s always been you. You are more than enough. I... I told you once you were perfect and that’s true Charles – you’re perfect for me. Perfect.”

Erik could feel Charles’ hand gripping and re-gripping his shirt as he spoke. He could feel the damp wetness of Charles’ tears soaking into the fabric. But he could also feel Charles burrowing into him, as if he was trying to crawl inside of him. Erik hoped, he desperately hoped it was a good sign. 

Erik still felt crushed under the weight of Charles’ emotional projection. He’d never imagined what it might feel like to have someone else’s emotional turmoil pour over him. To think that Charles likely felt this type of emotional onslaught everyday – how could he stand it? Even a few seconds had knocked Erik off his feet. Erik’s admiration for Charles climbed even higher. Charles may not look physically imposing, but to handle all those emotions, all that pain and suffering, all day, every day, Charles had to be a man of indescribable fortitude.

“Don’t leave.” He murmured. “I love you Charles – please stay.”

“You love me?” Charles asked, his voice barely audible and full of so much doubt.

“Yes.” Erik replied fiercely. “I love you and I’m never letting you go.”

Erik felt Charles’ hands unclench, letting go of his shirt and sliding around his torso. Erik let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Finally, finally Charles was relaxing. He believed him. Erik had made he believe him.

“I’m not sure I can stand.” Charles confessed quietly.

Erik wasn’t exactly sure he could either, his muscles still felt a bit like jelly from the impact of Charles’ power.

“I’ve got you, liebling. We’ll make it to the bed together.” Erik promised. “In a few minutes.”

Eventually, they did make it to the bed. The walk there wasn’t pretty – Erik supported Charles most of the way, but his own legs were still shaking and they stumbled their way along the hallway, finally collapsing onto the bed. They slept wrapped up so closely together that Erik inhaled the scent of Charles’ hair with every breath and felt the beat of his heart under his hand. Nothing had ever felt so right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who's been reading, commenting and leaving kudos - you are all amazing!
> 
> Thank you to my two lovely betas for all their hard work and for helping me make this fic better.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles finally exchange 'I love you's and generally enjoy each other's company. Clarke continues to plot and plan.

****

**Chapter 18**

* * *

Charles woke in his typical fashion: slowly, in little fits and starts, his body and mind protesting each and every step of the way.

When he was finally truly conscious, aware of softness of Erik’s flannel sheets underneath him and of the delicious weight of Erik’s arm draped over his back holding him closely against his body, he felt his heart swell in his chest.

Erik.

Erik who was in love with him. In love with him: Charles Xavier.

It was bloody incomprehensible. It was every dream Charles had ever had, come true. He’d very nearly messed the whole thing up, but Erik hadn’t let him ruin things. Erik had held on with both hands and here they were, together and in love.

Charles looked up at Erik’s face; so soft and gentle as he slept. Charles knew he should keep his hands to himself, he shouldn’t disturb Erik’s sleep, but his free hand had a life of its own and it reached out to touch Erik’s face, tracing the hard line of his jaw, the strong defined line of his lips, the curve of cheek. Erik was so impossibly handsome. How was it that he was here with Erik, in his bed?

“I swear I can feel you worrying.” Erik mumbled.

“I woke you.” Charles said, voice pained and apologetic.

“It was your magic fingers.” Erik replied with a smirk. “They were very magical until you got stuck rubbing my eyebrow over and over and I snuck a peek and could see your face and I knew – you were lost somewhere. You get this little pucker,” Erik brushed his thumb between Charles’ brows, “right here and when I see it, I know you’re worrying about something. So, what is it?” Erik asked as he leaned forward and nipped at Charles chin. “What has you all bothered so early in the morning.”

Charles let his fingers run through Erik’s hair, soothing himself as he spoke. “Last night I didn’t… I didn’t say it back.” He explained.

Erik stopped his nipping and looked up at him, silent and waiting.

“I love you.” Charles said, softly but confidently. “I love you, Erik.”

“I know.” Erik said. “You said as much on Thursday night.”

“I… I suppose I did.” Charles agreed, with some surprise.

“You, Charles Xavier, are the bolder man.” Erik said with a grin and then quick nip at Charles’ collarbone. “But I, I have had days to think about things and,” Erik continued his trail of licks and nips along Charles shoulder and then down his chest. “And I think I should show you just how much I love you.”

Charles shivered as Erik ducked down and laved at his nipple, before sucking it firmly into his mouth.

“Erik...” Charles exhaled, breathy and already aching with want.

“I’ve barely kissed you for days.” Erik muttered, gazing up at Charles as his tongue reached out to lick Charles’ other nipple. “I have a lot to make up for.”

True to his word, Erik made up for every moment of missed time from the past week. Charles had never thought he’d know what it felt like to be worshipped, the idea seemed ridiculous and overly dramatic, but Erik spent so much time touching, kissing and exploring every part of him, that there was no other word to use to describe it but worship. Charles felt boneless and over wrought. He felt precious and wondrous. He felt so loved that tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and streamed down his cheeks.

When Erik was done tracing every line of his body and made his way back up to look at Charles’ face, he kissed the tracks of Charles tears and murmured Charles name until Charles couldn’t take it any longer, and he pulled Erik’s mouth to his for fervent kiss. One kiss turned into two and two into four, and then Charles lost count and simply enjoyed the feeling of exploring Erik; of caressing his tongue, of tracing his lips, of breathing him in.

“I’d like to make good on my promise.” Erik whispered raggedly, breaking away from Charles’ mouth to trail kisses to his ear. “If you’ll have me.”

“Wha… what?” Charles answered, dazed and beyond thought.

“I promised to open you up,” Erik’s voice answered softly in his ear and his hand gripped Charles leg and pulled it up, allowing Erik to nestle in between Charles’ thighs and Charles felt his eyes widen as Erik’s cock brushed against him. “Do you want that, Charles? Do you want me to open you up with my fingers and then…”

“Yes.” Charles moaned, his hands clutching at Erik’s back, his hips already canting upward in anticipation. “Yes please, Erik.”

There were heated kisses and a few fumbling moments as Erik opened the jar of lube and then… and then Erik’s fingers were there, at his entrance and Charles stilled, suddenly unsure.

“Liebling.” Erik murmured, running his nose along Charles’ neck. “Shh, relax liebling.”

Charles felt Erik’s finger tracing gentle circles around his hole, slowly, patiently waiting, until Charles finally began to relax, his hips moving again as the pleasure of Erik’s touch sank in and his fear melted away.

“That’s it.” Erik encouraged, as Charles began to push himself toward Erik’s fingers, wanting, needing more. 

Charles moaned and then gasped as the tip of Erik’s finger slipped inside of him. Charles couldn’t keep his hands, or his hips still, his body clearly determined to get more – more sensation, more pleasure, more of Erik. In what felt like both hours and mere seconds, Erik’s finger worked its way completely inside him and all Charles could think was, more.

“More.” He pleaded. “Please, Erik, more.”

“Slowly liebling. We need to go slowly.” Erik ran his free hand down Charles frantic body, trying to calm him.

Charles could only shake his head in protest, pulling Erik down for an open-mouthed kiss.

“Need you, Erik. I need…” Charles ended on a frustrated whine as Erik withdrew his finger, only to have his eye roll back in intense pleasure as Erik returned with two instead of one.

“Oh. Yes.” Charles hissed, the burning of the extra finger almost immediately spurring him on, stoking the fires of his mounting pleasure.

“Charles… god Charles.” Erik pumped his fingers, scissoring and twisting them, watching, eyes rapt as Charles responded with unrestrained enthusiasm. 

Erik crooked his fingers, searching until he found a spot that made Charles jerk. Erik kept a steady pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of Charles, always, always brushing firmly along his prostate until Charles was pleading.

“Please, Erik. Please.” Charles managed between moans. “I want you. I want you, Erik.”

“One more finger, liebling. I want to make sure you’re ready.”

“I want you, Erik.” Charles said, grabbing at Erik hair and pulling him upwards until they were face to face, unwilling to wait a moment longer. “I want your cock inside me. Now.”

“Fuck.” Erik muttered.

Erik looked at him for so long, Charles couldn’t resist slipping into his mind to try and discern what he was thinking. A quick brush of Erik’s surface thoughts was all he needed. _‘Fucking perfect. Don’t want to hurt him. Have to be careful. Made for me. Careful. Charles. Mine. Love.’_

“Yes.” Charles encouraged, pushing he own feelings of love, his overwhelming need to have Erik take him toward Erik. “Make me yours, Erik.”

Erik leaned forward and kissed Charles, hard with teeth and tongue, and emotion pouring off of him in waves.

“You tell me if it hurts. You stop me.” Erik commanded, his fingers moving inside Charles once more.

“I will.” Charles promised, his hips moving in time with Erik’s fingers, his mind and body ready for everything Erik had to offer.

When Charles felt the blunt head of Erik’s cock at his entrance, his eye widened and his hips stilled. God, Erik was big. Charles felt a split second of apprehension, but it was quickly replaced with the anticipation of holding Erik inside of him, of being able to have Erik so close, of being able to give himself to Erik, to finally, finally be with Erik in every way possible.

Charles couldn’t keep the grunt from escaping his lips as Erik eased his way inside. He’d never felt anything like it before in his life: so full, so vulnerable. His body was no longer simply his own, it was Erik’s too and it was… it was indescribably perfect.

Erik moved ever so slowly, waiting for Charles to adjust to every movement and Charles accepted each new sensation eagerly. There was pain yes, but a good pain – the pain of being stretched, which faded quickly and made Charles’ hips twitch, ready for more.

Once Erik stopped, fully inside him, his mouth beside Charles’ ear, panting, Charles let himself feel. He ran his fingers down Erik’s back and carded them through Erik’s hair. He kissed Erik’s face; his chin, his cheeks, his ears. Quick, teasing pecks. Slowly Erik’s tense muscles relaxed, and he moved so he could kiss Charles again, their lips meeting in a deep, unhurried kiss.

Sometimes during that endless, drugging kiss, they both started moving. Small, easy movements at first, hardly more than a twitch of their hips. Slowly, the movements built, until Charles could no longer maintain the kiss with Erik, his body suffused with pleasure, his feet now hooked around Erik’s waist, trying to keep Erik close and yet drive him to move faster, to give more.

At some point Charles realized that he was speaking. An endless chant of, “More, Erik. More.”

His hands, once gently touching Erik’s back, were now gripping Erik’s ass, as if Charles could somehow pull Erik deeper inside of him.

Erik pulled at Charles’ thigh, lifting his leg up higher and causing Charles’ legs to unhook from behind Erik’s back, changing the angle between them and suddenly Erik was hitting that spot again with every thrust and Charles was seeing stars.

Eyes closed, lost in sensation, Charles almost didn’t hear Erik when he first spoke, but the feeling of Erik’s firm hand enveloping his cock caught his attention and his eyes flew open to meet Erik’s intense gaze.

“Are you ready to come for me?” Erik ground out, his hand moving in swift strokes over Charles cock, as he continued to steadily thrust inside of Charles’ ass, hitting his prostate with every movement. “Come for me Charles.”

Charles felt Erik twist his grip on his cock just as he hit his prostate, and Charles came so quickly and unexpectedly he cried out and dug his hands into Erik’s ass, trying to anchor himself. His whole body shot up off the bed and clenched, and Charles felt Erik groaning, his cock spasming as he came inside of Charles. The whole experience was so intense, Charles felt himself drifting off, lost in sensation.

“It’s okay. You’re okay liebling.” 

Charles came back to himself to find Erik stroking his face and brushing his hair back off his forehead.

“I’m okay.” Charles confirmed, feeling himself come back to the present, back to reality. “That was… that was…” Charles stopped, unable to form words to describe how he’d felt, or how he felt now.

“Yeah.” Erik grinned, teeth on display. “That was.”

Charles laughed. It was a slightly too giddy and bordering on hysterical, but Erik laughed too and somehow, everything felt right.

“I am not waiting another twenty two years to do that again.” Charles declared.

Erik laughed so hard and so expectedly that he snorted, which sent Charles into fits of giggles that lasted several minutes.

When he finally got control of himself, all Charles could do was lie there on the bed, facing Erik, with a stupid grin on his face. He’d never been so happy in all of his life.

* * *

Professor Clarke stared down at his notes, dissatisfied. His goal to look into the personal lives and pasts of his opponents was not going as smoothly as he had hoped.

Anderson was still following that damned Xavier, but had nothing unusual to report, aside from the fact that everyone seemed to like the boy. Surely, he couldn’t be that charming.

Clarke’s search of his personal history had revealed a brilliant student – excellent marks, quick completion of his studies, glowing letters of recommendation from his professors. His SAT scores from his time in the United States suggested a genius level intellect. His extra-curricular activities were limited, and mostly related to his passion for genetics and the biological sciences. There were no reports of wild partying, drunken shenanigans, or arrest reports.

The only oddities were from his distant past: abnormally frequent trips to the hospital as a child for various injuries, and an extensive report on his mutant abilities by the U.S. government, which was almost completely classified. The only bits left remaining available for viewing to Clarke, and only after he’d called in a few favours, was that the government had concluded, after several days of intense testing, that Xavier’s mutation was no risk to the U.S. government. Clarke had met with nothing but dead ends trying to find out more about what the report might contain.

Erik Lehnsherr’s background have proven to be slightly more colourful. 

Lehnsherr had an arrest record: he’d been arrested almost ten times for attending various protests and rallies for mutant rights during his time in college. He’d also been detained for attending three similar protests since moving to the UK. Unfortunately for Clarke’s purposes, he’d always been released quickly and without charges being laid. For all the man’s gruff and aggressive persona his participation in political activism had been completely non-violent.

Lehnsherr’s academic records were strong, though not nearly as impressive as Xavier’s, though that was to be expected. He had, according to various sources, lived with his girlfriend, then fiancée, for several years during his graduate studies. They had moved to the UK together, but at some point, within the last few years had split up. 

Lehnsherr’s previous neighbour, a talkative older woman named June, had happily divulged that the couple were well known for arguing and bickering in their building. June didn’t believe there had been any physical violence and said the police had never been called, but did say Lehnsherr ‘Had an awful temper and an even fouler vocabulary.’ 

June’s memories had been something, but not the smoking gun Clarke had been hoping for.

For all his efforts, both Xavier and Lehnsherr remained untouchable, their positions at the university still secured by their intelligence and good reputation.

Everybody made mistakes eventually. Clarke understood that. Lehnsherr and Xavier may not have made any mis-steps as of yet, but it was only a matter of time until they did. Clarke would be waiting and watching until they did.

* * *

Erik was relishing the burning in his lungs, the feeling of his muscles pushed to the limit, the pounding of his feet on the pavement. He might have started his morning run later than usual because of the intense pleasure of having Charles in his bed, but he was glad he made it out for his regular morning exercise. There’s a reason he’s been running almost every day of the week for fifteen years, Erik thrived on the awareness of his body and the test of his ability.

Feeling buoyed by his time with Charles and the words, feelings and intimacy they exchanged, Erik ran longer than usual, extending his route by a couple of kilometers. When he finally began his cool down, slowing to a light jog, his shirt was mostly soaked with sweat, though thankfully covered by a grey pullover. Erik was glad he was still reasonably presentable, as he stopped at the small café around the corner from his flat.

Erik was not generally a fan of buying coffee at cafés – he could make it better and cheaper at home – but this little café had two things worth stopping for: excellent expresso and the best scones in Oxford (according to Moira).

It is worth his time to grab an expresso for himself, an indulgence he allowed himself once per week, and a scone, or two, for Charles. Erik is sure he’ll be hungry once he’s woken up. Erik has not spent a morning with Charles yet where he hasn’t woken up with his stomach rumbling and proceeded to eat enough breakfast for two grown men. He might also be grateful, and Erik smiled to himself as he let his mind wander over all the ways Charles might express how very thankful he was for receiving freshly made baked goods.

When he finally got close enough to peer around the bodies in front of him and see the pastries on display, Erik found himself unable to decide whether Charles would prefer sweet or savoury for his scone. By the time Erik made it to the till to order, he’d made up his mind. He quickly ordered his expresso and a box of half a dozen scones – one in every flavour. He’s almost certain Charles will happily polish off all the scones by the end of the day.

Erik was leaning casually against the counter, waiting for his order when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Listening to the uneasy stirring in his gut, Erik scanned the room slowly until he spotted him – Anderson, Clarke’s assistant, sitting at a corner table. If Erik hadn’t been leaning, he likely wouldn’t have seen him at all, but there he was.

Erik frowned. He’d never seen Anderson in the café before and Erik stopped by every weekend. It’s possible Anderson was here for the first time. It’s possible they’ve just never arrived at the same time before. There are many reasonable explanations.

But as Erik watched Anderson fiddle restlessly with his mug; spinning it, picking it up, lifting it to his mouth, looking at it as if startled to find it empty, and putting it back down, Erik had a sneaking suspicion that Anderson was nervous. When Anderson raised his head and gazed out at the other patrons, Erik kept staring. The wide-eyed horror on Anderson’s face when their eyes met was the tell Erik was looking for: the man was none too pleased that Erik knew he was there.

Erik grinned, a slow predatory grin, as he continued to watch Anderson until the man looked away, ducking his head down and staring at his hands as if they are the most interesting things he’d ever seen.

Within moments, the young lady behind the counter called out his order and Erik turned to grab his coffee and his bag. He walked to the exit confidently, ignoring Anderson, refusing to look at him even though a part of his brain was screaming at him to go over there and demand to know why Anderson was in his neighbourhood now, today, and exited the café.

Despite knowing he’d made Anderson uncomfortable at the café, Erik couldn’t seem to stop looking behind him as he walked the short block home. No one was ever there, but Erik felt his gut churning. It simply couldn’t be coincidence that Clarke’s assistant was in that café, which meant Clarke was up to something. Whatever that something was, Erik knew it couldn’t mean anything good for himself, or for Charles.

* * *

Erik was still trying to stop thinking about Clarke and Anderson, as he rubbed his face vigorously in the shower. He was so occupied with his thoughts and so aggressive while washing his hair, he only noticed that he wasn’t alone anymore when a waft of cold air hit his back.

Seconds later, Charles’ arms slipped around his waist and Erik felt Charles’ lips press between his shoulder blades. Erik dropped his hands with a groan, bracing himself against the wall of the shower as he felt the full press of Charles’ body against his.

“You seem tense.” Charles murmured, as he ran his hands along Erik’s stomach. “I could help you relax.”

“Charles,” Erik muttered, both amused and aroused. “Insatiable today, aren’t you?”

“I could stop…” Charles paused, his hands hovering, one on Erik’s hip, the other brushing the hair surrounding his cock.

Erik spun around quickly, startling Charles and causing him to take a quick step back. Erik had been expecting Charles’ reaction however, and he laced his arms around the younger man’s waist, pulling him in close for a thorough kiss.

“I don’t think you should stop.” Erik said, nipping at Charles’ ear. “I’m just wondering why this morning wasn’t… satisfying enough.”

“This morning was very satisfying.” Charles replied, his hand wrapping firmly around Erik’s cock. “So satisfying in fact, I think I’d like another go.”

Erik frowned into Charles shoulder. “It will hurt if I take you again so soon, liebling.”

“So you won’t fuck me?” Charles leaned back; his lips pushed out in an exaggerated pout.

“No.” Erik grumbled.

“But we could something else.” Charles looked up at him, innocently peaking up at Erik as his bit his lip and then slowly eased down onto his knees.

“Charles…” Erik groaned.

Within seconds, he had a hand gripping Charles’ hair, and another pushed against the tiled wall of the tub in an effort to keep himself steady as Charles’s head bobbed up and down on his cock.

Charles popped off his dick after a few minutes, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked up at Erik.

“Should I try to take all of you?” Charles asked before swirling his tongue around the head of Erik’s cock. “Or maybe,” Charles licked a slowly stripe all the way up Erik’s prick, “maybe you’d like to come on my face?”

“Fuck.” Erik breathed out, once again rocked by how Charles seemed to know exactly how to ratchet up his arousal.

“Was that a yes, Erik? Do you want to come on me? Mark me? I’d like you to. I’d like to feel you come all over my face. Please, Erik?”

Erik tightened his grip on Charles’ hair, wondering for a moment if Charles could make him come from dirty talk alone. Erik used his hand to pull Charles closer, causing his cock to rub against Charles’ cheek.

“You’re all talk and no action, Charles.” He said, arching a brow. “I’m not sure you really want my cock at all.”

From the look in his eyes, Erik knew that Charles had interpreted his words exactly as they were intended: a challenge.

A moment when later when Charles swallowed him down, almost right to the base of his cock, Erik had to bite his lip to keep from shouting. When Charles reared back and than slowly worked his way back down again, letting Erik feel his throat working to accommodate Erik’s cock, he couldn’t suppress his moans.

“Fuck… yes…” Erik tugged on Charles’ hair, hard enough to make Charles hum around his cock, but not hard enough to hurt. “So fucking hot… your mouth is so fucking hot.”

Charles hummed happily again, and Erik felt the pleasant warmth of his telepathy settle into his mind.

Charles’ eye lids fluttered as he leaned back, releasing Erik’s dick from his mouth and grasping the base and jacking it with strong, confident strokes.

“I love sucking your cock, Erik. I love how it feels in my mouth, so big and hard and smooth.”

Charles leaned back in and began sucking hard, fast little bobs up and down on only the first few inches of Erik’s cock, his hand pumping below, perfectly in time with his lips. The combination of the suction of Charles lips and the twisting pressure of his hand was enough to send Erik hurtling over the edge.

“Coming…” Erik ground out only moments in advance.

Charles pulled back immediately, and Erik watched in stunned silence as his come hit Charles’ face, painting him from his chin to his forehead.

Erik reached his hand toward Charles’ face and rubbed his thumb along the arch of Charles’ cheek. He felt his heart lurch pleasantly in his chest when Charles leaned into his palm, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Erik grabbed a wash cloth with his free hand and knelt down in the tub, gently washing Charles’ face clean and peppering his face with kisses.

“I love you.” He whispered, his lips resting against Charles’ cheek.

“Do you love me, or blow jobs?” Charles teased, nuzzling into Erik’s neck.

“Both.” Erik chuckled. “Definitely both.”

Erik dropped his hand down to stroke Charles’ cock, which twitched eagerly in his hand.

“Now it’s your turn.” He said as he encouraged Charles to stand.

Several minutes later, after he’d swallowed every drop of Charles’ sweet release, and they’d finally turned off the now almost cold water, Erik had Charles wrapped up in a towel and pulled in close to him, lazily kissing his shoulder.

“So, do you love me, or blow jobs?” Erik asked with a grin.

“Both.” Charles replied, grinning back. “Definitely both.”

* * *

Edie Lehnsherr lifted a mug of warm dark coffee to her lips and took a small sip. It was almost time for her call with Erik and she’d spent quite a bit of her time today reminiscing about her past. She generally tried not to think too much about her own loss, her own sadness. She focused her energy on her son, on her cooking, on her friends and her job. 

Today she couldn’t escape the reality of her grief: she had now lived more years without Jakob than with him. They had married young, full of hope and yearning for adventure. It had taken them several years to save the money to move to America and they had thought it would be easy to travel to a new place and start their family. In the end they had been married almost ten years when Edie had finally fallen pregnant and Erik was born.

Eighteen years. She’d had eighteen wonderful years with Jakob. He had died twenty-five years ago. Twenty-five years without Jakob. The hole in her life left after his loss was still there, though it sat like a dull ache most days, not the pit of despair it had been when Erik was a boy.

When Erik had asked Magda to marry him, Edie had wondered what Jakob would have thought of her, what he would have thought about of his son and the woman he had chosen to marry. She used to talk to him, alone in her room before bed, and tell him about Erik, his studies, his mutation, his fight for mutant rights, the man their son had become.

Things had, in the end, not worked with Magda and Edie could not say she had been surprised. Magda was a nice girl, a strong woman, a tenacious lawyer. But she had not been the right match for Erik. She had not made him happy, she had not eased his troubles, or calmed the storm that so often raged inside of him.

Edie had hurt for her son; he had so clearly been stunned by the break up. It had been a messy thing and he had been so very far from home. But at night, alone with Jakob, Edie had told him it was for the best – there was someone else out there for Erik, someone better.

She wondered what Jakob would think of Charles. She wondered what he would have thought of Erik seeing a man, they’d never spoken of such things when Erik was a boy.

Most of all she wondered what she would see when she saw him on her computer screen today. Would Erik have that look, that look of dreamy happiness her mother had accused her of wearing for weeks after she and Jakob had declared their love? Or would he be drawn and closed off, devastated once more?

A ding on her computer interrupted her thoughts: Erik was calling. Edie set down her coffee and clicked to accept the call.

“Erik?” She asked, anxiously waiting for his image to appear on her screen and cursing the chopping connection that prevented her from seeing him right away.

“Hello Momma.” Erik replied.

Edie felt her breath catch in her throat. Erik looked… peaceful. His face looked soft and relaxed. He looked years younger than when she’d spoken to him last week. She smiled broadly.

“Oh, my boy. Things have gone well.”

“They have.” Erik grinned. “Very well, Momma.”

“I am so happy, bubbeleh.” Edie said, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“Momma… there’s nothing to cry about.” 

“I’m just so happy, schatz. So very happy for you.” Edie smiled, tears still forming in her eyes. “Your father would be happy for you too.”

“Thank you, Momma.” Erik said gruffly. “I know you don’t know -”

“I know. I know he would be so happy to see you like this. To see you in love.” Edie insisted. “To know that you are not alone.”

Erik cheeks flushed and Edie chuckled lightly.

“I cannot wait to meet him, Erik. In person. Such a sweet, smart boy. You should bring him home.” Edie stated firmly; her mind suddenly awhirl with plans. “I can get Mr. Bronstein to make a Chuppah. Inside or outside, Erik? Outdoor weddings can be so beautiful. Would Charles convert do you think? Oh...oh… grandbabies, Erik! I can finally have grandbabies!”

“Momma!” Erik was rubbing his temples and shaking his head. “I haven’t… I didn’t propose, Momma. Charles can’t have babies, and neither can I.”

“You can adopt! Or… or find one of those women who will have the baby for you! What are they called...”

“Surrogates.” Erik grumbled.

“Yes! Surrogates! See you know – you must have thought about it. You should find one of those women Erik. Maybe the babies could have Charles’ big blue eyes.” Edie sighed at the thought of a baby with Erik’s auburn hair and Charles’ clear blue eyes.

“For fu--” Erik cut himself short. “Momma, please.”

“Alright, alright. We’ll talk about it later.” Edie was almost sure she heard Erik mutter ‘Very far in the future’ under his breath, but she ignored it completely.

“Where is your Charles? I want to see him.” 

“He went out to buy some food. He should be back any minute.”

As if he’d been summoned by their words, Edie heard the door open and she smiled in anticipation.

“Tell him to come over, Erik.” She demanded.

Erik sighed. “Charles, my mother would like to see you.” 

Edie watched as Charles approached and leaned in to better see the screen. He was such a beautiful young man; all flushed cheeks, freckles and glowing blue eyes.

“Hello Mrs. Lehn – I mean Edie. It’s very nice to see you again.”

“It is nice to see you too.” Edie grinned. “I hope my Erik has been treating you well.”

Edie was pleased to see Erik shifting in his seat, giving her a pointed look.

“Of course, Edie. Erik is ever the gentleman.” Charles smiled brightly. “Oooh, look Edie.” Charles stuck out his wrist and Edie found herself looking at a beautifully woven bracelet, thin strands of metal twisting together is beautiful symmetry.

“Lovely!” She exclaimed. “Where did you get such a beautiful piece?”

“Erik made it for me – out of pieces of metal from a chess set I bought him for Christmas. Isn’t it amazing? Such intricate detail.” Charles smiled down at the bracelet fondly. 

“What a lovely gift, Erik.” Edie held in a laugh of delight as she watched Erik flush red, embarrassed by his mother’s attention.

“Charles...” Erik muttered, clearly wishing the bracelet had not been mentioned at all.

“What -” Charles looked over at Erik and looked at him in silence for a moment, as if he was analyzing his facial expression. “Even from your mother? Really Erik.” He commented softly, before turning back to Edie. “You’re son is a true romantic Edie, though apparently too shy to admit it. We shall have to keep it a secret between the two of us.”

Edie laughed at Charles’ mischievous grin. “Of course. We won’t tell a soul.”

“Excellent.” Charles replied happily, before he stood up from his chair. “Well, I must be going. I have promised Erik a surprise.” He declared.

Edie felt her smile soften as Charles leaned over to kiss Erik’s forehead and Erik took a moment to tangle his fingers with Charles’, holding him in place as they rested their foreheads against one another. It reminded her so very much of her early days with Jakob when every moment apart had felt so very long, and their time together had seemed to fly by so quickly so that when Jakob had to leave she had wanted to hold him and never let him go.

Erik watched Charles as he left the room before he turned back to his mother.

“He is making you a surprise?” Edie prompted.

“He’s cooking me dinner.” 

“You are letting him cook for you?” Edie asked in surprise – she could hardly forget her first encounter with Charles and his inability to even open a can without incident.

“He insisted.” Erik explained with a shrug.

“I’ve promised not to burn the kitchen down!” Charles’ voice called out from the other room. 

“I see.” Edie commented. “Well, I hope you have an… acceptable dining experience.”

“Charles has assured me it will be edible.” Erik said drily.

“Well, then I will let you go. Perhaps your Charles could use some help in the kitchen.”

“I do not need help!” Charles’ voice rang out once more.

“Goodbye Momma.” Erik said, ignoring Charles completely.

“Goodbye, schatz.”

Edie was still smiling after Erik ended their connection. It was ever so lovely to see her boy so happy. So in love.

She walked to her small kitchen and put her mug in the sink. That Charles had awfully good hearing, didn’t he? Erik hadn’t spoken about whether Charles was a mutant, but, perhaps…

Well, if there was something to tell, Erik would tell her. He’d never been one to keep many secrets from his mother.

* * *

“Professor Clarke?”

“Yes, this is he.”

“It’s Anderson, Professor. I… saw something today and I thought it might be useful.”

“Tell me.” Clarke ordered.

“I was getting coffee, at a cafe near Lehnsherr’s flat. I’ve been a few times this week and I’d never seen him before, but I thought maybe -”

“Get to the point, boy!”

“Yes, sorry sir. I saw him there this morning.”

“And you’re only calling me now, this evening?”

“I wasn’t sure it meant anything. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking about what he bought, Professor.”

“I’m not sure that what he bought has any significance to our investigation.” Clarke said dismissively.

“Lehnsherr, as far as we know, lives alone, correct?”

“Yes. He’s been living alone for at least two years.”

“No romantic relationships that we’re aware of, yes?”

“Anderson, I know all the facts. If you have anything worth telling me, spit it out.”

“He bought an entire box of scones, sir. At seven o’clock in the morning. All he bought was an expresso and a box of scones.”

“And you think the scones were something he bought for someone.”

“Yes.”

“It could have been for a friend.”

“Yes, that’s possible. But at seven in the morning? It’s rather early.” Anderson let out an audible breath. “I think… I think he may have been going home, to someone, and bringing the scones with him. Perhaps to share for breakfast. I think, sir, I think Lehnsherr may be seeing someone.”

“Hmm. Seeing someone. Seeing someone he cares about enough to buy baked goods for.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Did you follow him? Were you able to confirm your theory?”

“He saw me, sir. I… there was no way I could possibly follow him.”

“Gave you one of his patented stare downs did he?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It would be best if you avoided him at all costs for the next little while Anderson. We can’t have any suspicions raised – its imparative he thinks its nothing more than a coincidence. Stay glued to Xavier. I will look into Lehnsherr myself.”

“Very good, Professor.”

Clarke hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. So Lehnsherr might have a girlfriend. Clarke steepled his fingers and close his eyes. 

Personal connections were a weakness. They could be exploited. It was more than worth his effort to see if Lehnsherr had a soft spot. And if he did… well if he did, Clarke would be more than happy to push at that spot until Lehnsherr broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to get this chapter up a bit earlier than expected - thank you to my beta for helping that happen.
> 
> Also, Happy Thanksgiving everyone! (Yes, it's Thanksgiving today in Canada). I feel so very thankful for all of you who are reading, commenting and leaving kudos. It means to world to me to know people are reading and enjoying this fic.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta for your help with this chapter! Any and all mistakes that remain are my own.

****

**Chapter 19**

* * *

“I think things are going well.” Moira commented, working to keep her tone light and breezy. “What do you think?”

“The response has been good. Better than expected.” Erik replied.

Moira knew he was telling the truth – the swell of support they had received in the face of the Clarke scandal had been incredible. Erik’s office was now completely overrun with visitors, and he had been forced to open separate evening office hours just to address complaints related to Clarke and on campus mutant discrimination. Moira herself was having extreme difficulty keeping up with all her phone messages and emails related to the campaign against Clarke and she knew things must be even worse for Erik.

It made her heart soar to walk across campus and see posters demanding equal treatment for all students hanging on every bulletin board in every hallway. The Mutant Coalition had collaborated with other groups that represented minorities on campus to make pins for those wanting to support the cause. They’d already sold thousands of them, with all the proceeds ear marked to help pay for legal expenses for students fighting cases related to discrimination on campus.

Moira had attended three more Mutant Coalition meetings with Erik, and she knew from those meetings just how much respect Erik had earned from the mutant student body for his work on their behalf. They were almost a full month into their mobilization efforts and, thus far, everything seemed to be working in their favour.

She also knew Erik was under an extreme amount of pressure. As a man prone to paranoia, Moira knew he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You’re still worried about Clarke.” 

“It’s my job to be worried about Clarke.” Erik scowled. “This whole fight is about Clarke – not being concerned about him would be ridiculous.”

“I mean – you think he’s up to something. You’re waiting.”

“He’s waiting.” Erik insisted. “He knows this place, this system. He knows it better than I do. I know he’s plotting something – he’s making it look like he’s going to go down quietly. As if he’ll be shamed by a few raucous rallies, some pins, and colourful posters, but he won’t. One day he’s going to slither out from under whatever rock he’s hiding behind and he’s going to strike like a viper. And I’m going to be ready for him.”

“He’s clearly in the wrong here, Erik. We’re waiting to hear about getting an audience with the Dean and the Board at their next meeting – you don’t think that means something?”

“Of course, it means something. It’s exactly what we wanted, exactly what we need. It doesn’t change the fact that Clarke has been friends with the Dean for thirty years! It’s because of his influence that half the Board was elected! He has clout and connections – we don’t. Underestimating him would be a huge tactical error.” Erik insisted; voice hard.

“Okay, okay. That’s fair.” Moira conceded.

She paused to sneak a peek over at Erik, who was frowning deeply at the papers in front of him, angrily slashing away with a pen at the speech they had written for the next Mutant Coalition meeting. Moira was doing her best not to pry, she really was, but Erik was making it very hard to hold back. He was so on edge and the only person who seemed to be able to calm his frayed nerves had been conspicuously absent from their planning sessions and the Mutant Coalition meetings. Moira was starting to worry about Erik’s relationship with Charles for a whole new reason – instead of wanting to break them apart, it was now clear that dealing with Erik was easier when Charles was around, and Moira was worried about the lack of Charles in his life this past month.

“You’re sure there’s nothing else bothering you?” Moira asked.

“You’ve been trying to ask me something for the past week. You know how much I hate you pushing and pushing and thinking you’re being subtle when you’re not – spit it out.” Erik commanded, looking her right in the eye, all his work on his speech abandoned.

“Fine.” Moira nodded aggressively. “Fine. You are as grumpy as a bear and I want to know where the hell your boyfriend is!”

“He’s busy.” Erik replied shortly.

“He’s busy.” Moira repeat skeptically.

As expected, Erik said nothing in return.

“He’s still your boyfriend?” Moira finally blurted out.

“What the fuck Moira!” Erik shouted and Moira winced at his thunderous expression. “Is he still... of course he’s still my boyfriend. How could you... what made you think he wasn’t?”

Moira sat back, startled by the pain that was mixed into Erik’s otherwise angry expression.

“I haven’t seen him in ages. I haven’t seen you with him in ages. I was... concerned you might be feeling testy because you’d broken up.”

“Moira,” Erik said, suddenly looking completely serious, if still a touch irritated, “if Charles and I ever break up I will be like I was when Magda left me – except about a hundred times worse.” Moira felt her eyebrows rising as Erik paused. “I’m stressed about Clarke. I’m worried about him plotting behind my back – I swear Anderson was at café near my place for a reason- and I’m worried about him working against mutants on campus, and selfishly, I am worried about him finding out about Charles, about what Charles means to me and exploiting that. Do you understand what I mean, Moira?”

“Yes, yes I think I do.” Moira responded.

Moira was, in fact, quite certain she knew what Erik meant. He meant he was in love with Charles and that he was protecting Charles in any way he could, so that Clarke would hopefully never, ever hurt him in any way.

“Would you have time to come over to my place for dinner this weekend? Both of you?” Moira asked tentatively.

Erik frowned and started to shake his head.

“Hear me out – it would be private, we would just eat, maybe play some silly games, just relax and de-stress. We’ve been working non-stop for over a month now, I know I could use a little fun in my life.” Moira said, giving it her best pitch. “At least say you’ll ask him?”

Erik let out a long breath. “I’ll ask.”

Moira grinned.

“I’ll ask I said.” Erik grumbled. “It’s not a yes. Charles might say no.”

“Tell him I make a mean burger – American style with all the fixings. And I have Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream.”

“Moira...” Erik muttered.

“What? I know Charles, he likes food. I once watched him eat an entire large pizza by himself. I had a biology department grad student party at the end of the year last year and when the pizza arrived, he snuck a box for himself and ate the whole thing. Never would have thought a kid so skinny could eat that much.”

“He’s man of many hidden talents.” Erik replied cryptically.

“So, you’ll tell him about the food?” Moira prompted.

“I’ll tell him about the food.” Erik agreed. “He could still say no.”

“I have a feeling he’ll say yes.” Moira smiled.

She did have a feeling, a very good feeling in fact. Moira was betting her odds of seeing her long-time friend with his boyfriend – his boyfriend he was head over heels in love with – this Saturday were very good. In the two years she had known Charles, she had never, ever, seen him turn down ice cream.

* * *

Charles stared blankly at the shelving in front of him, pondering why he was even here, buying more over the counter pain medication – it was hardly making a dint these days. His head continued to pound whether he resorted to pharmaceuticals or not.

“Whatcha think of these, Charles?” Raven asked her voice full of mischief, as she waved a colourful box in front of his face.

“Good god, Raven.” Charles covered his eyes with his hand. “I can’t see what that is with you waving it about.”

Raven stopped her enthusiastic motions and held the box still. Charles let his hand drop and gave Raven a scowl.

“Condoms, Raven? Why are you showing me a box of...” Charles leaned forward and squinted, “strawberry flavoured condoms?”

“I am preparing for my epic affair, Charles. And clearly, I want to be both sexually active and safe.”

“I applaud your forethought and your commitment to safe sex practices.” Charles said, deciding his best approach to Raven’s childish behaviour was to be completely serious.

“And the strawberry flavour? What do you think of that?” Raven asked, eye narrowed, determination written all over her face.

“That’s really a matter of personal preference.” Charles shrugged dismissively.

“Would you ask Erik to wrap it up in a pink strawberry flavoured condom or not, Charles?” Raven demanded.

Charles hesitated momentarily and considered that he and Erik, and their complete lack of condom use, were not particularly good role models for safe sex – not that Raven ever needed to know.

Charles sighed. “You are trying to provoke me. It won’t work.” Charles gave Raven a frank stare. “I do not care if you buy strawberry flavoured condoms, or ‘Ribbed for her Pleasure’ condoms, or condoms that glow in the dark. If you want to have sex, all I want is for it to be safe, consensual and, hopefully, with someone who treats you like the wonderful young woman I know you are.”

“How am I supposed to be an annoying little sister when you say sweet things like that?” Raven asked.

She put the box down on the counter beside her and enveloped him in a tight hug.

“Is your head still bothering you?” Raven whispered into his ear, still holding him close. “I feel like you’ve had a constant headache for weeks now.” She pulled away from him with a frown.

“It’s been a rough month.” Charles admitted.

The fact of the matter was his migraines had become so frequent and debilitating that Charles had been unable to hide his anguish from the people he was closest to. Raven was now used to him coming home from Oxford to nap for an hour or two before he could get back up and complete his grading. She’d agreed to always use headphones to listen to music because Charles had become so sensitive to sound that anything aside from the typical background noise of their neighbours caused him pain.

Hank had never been one for noise in the lab, but he an agreed to shorten his research hours with Charles after Charles had nearly fainted in the lab one evening at the end of ten-hour long marathon of experimentation. In his slightly delirious state Charles had almost asked Hank to call Erik but had thankfully caught himself before he revealed his secret.

Erik, Erik had borne the brunt of Charles’ migraines and their side effects. Charles was loath to admit how often he was unable to do more than fall into bed and curl up next to Erik and sleep, when he would have greatly preferred to stay awake and engage in sexual escapades with his gorgeous boyfriend. Unfortunately, his body simply would not cooperate. 

Not that there hadn’t been any sexual escapades... but it was truly frustrating to want Erik so desperately and only be able to follow through on that desire a third of the time.

Charles was simply too overwhelmed. His life had become a writhing ball of stress. He was pushing forward with his research with Hank at a gruelling, though now slightly less frenetic, pace. He was trying to support Erik, Hank and all the mutants on campus in the campaign against Clarke, all while avoiding Mutant Coalition meetings, specifically one Jean Grey. He was doing his best to raise a teenager who was about to leave the country for a trip to Paris. And he was trying and failing to dodge the man who had been stalking him for the past month.

His stalker was now a serious problem. He seemed to appear everywhere: classrooms, outside the biology building where Charles did his research with Hank, at the grocery store near Charles’ flat, at the library, and lastly and most unnervingly, in the hallway outside of Erik’s office. Charles was positive the man was following him and reporting everything Charles did to Clarke – he’s thoughts revealed as much. 

Balancing between keeping his telepathy open enough to track the stalker and attempt to avoid him, while also keeping his shields high enough that no one would suspect him of being a telepath was an exercise in frustration. It was also incredibly physically draining.

His stalker was yet another secret on Charles’ growing list of secrets. 

He had almost told Erik about the stalker multiple times, about Clarke’s threats to have Charles thrown out of Oxford, out of England, but somehow the words never come out. Even now, complete in love and loved in return, Charles couldn’t let himself put Erik at risk. The less Erik knew about Clarke’s plot to have Charles deported, the better. 

“Hey!” 

Charles started where he stood when Raven punched him in the arm.

“I lost you there for a bit.” Raven frowned with concern. “You back? Maybe we should get the extra strength Tylenol this time?” Raven turned to scan the shelves.

Charles watched her in silence. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d been buying extra strength for the last two weeks with no improvements. Raven handed him a couple bottles and Charles smiled wanly.

“You’re seeing Erik tomorrow night, right? After the meeting?”

Charles nodded.

“Are you ever going to come to the Coalition again?” Raven asked hesitantly.

“It’s not a good idea, Raven.”

Raven sighed and Charles understood her disappointment. Raven loved the Mutant Coalition meetings. She thrived off her encounters with other mutants, she relished being in an environment where she could openly display her blue form, and she took endless delight in teasing Hank, who had gamely accompanied her to every meeting. Charles wished he could be there with them, enjoying his fellow mutants, standing by Erik’s side in support. The risk, however, was too great.

“I look forward to your detailed report as always.” He added, leaning over to give Raven an affectionate kiss on the side of her head.

“Sir, yes sir.” Raven answered, with a mock salute.

Charles managed a tired smile, but found himself rubbing his temples moments later as his head began to pound incessantly.

“Let’s get you home.” Raven instructed, linking their arms and pulling Charles along beside her.

Charles let Raven lead him home. When they arrived, Raven pushed him off to his room. Charles made sure he took the time to say a genuine ‘thank you’ before he crashed in his bed. He truly had the greatest sister in the world.

* * *

“Ha!” Charles declared triumphant. “I told you. I told you, Erik!”

Erik smiled bemusedly as his boyfriend pranced around, wearing nothing but a white button-down shirt and a grin.

“You are aware that you lost?” Erik remarked drily, enjoying the brief flashes of Charles cock peeking out from under his shirt as he danced around the living room.

“Losing, winning, it’s all so relative.” Charles replied happily.

“I would argue strip Yahtzee has a clear winner -” Erik pointed to himself, still wearing pants, underwear, and socks, “And a clear loser.” Erik motioned toward Charles who wore only his shirt.

“Ah, but we played successfully played a “strip” themed game, which you said we could never do because I would cheat. But I found the perfect game, we played, you’ve successfully gotten me out of my pants, I have had the pleasure of staring at you shirtless for twenty minutes... I feel like a winner in every regard.” Charles beamed.

“Except that you lost.” Erik countered, prowling toward Charles. “And now, now I think I should get my reward.”

Charles laughed as Erik grabbed him around the waist and hauled him over to the couch, tossing the younger man down with a predatory grin. Erik enjoyed watching Charles’ eyes go wide when Erik straddled him.

“What are you doing?” Charles whispered.

Erik smiled softly as he traced his fingers along Charles’ lips.

“I’m claiming my prize.” 

Erik leaned forward and trailed his lips down Charles’ neck slowly, savouring every inch of exposed skin. As usual, Charles responded with moans and twitches, hands gripping Erik’s back.

Erik leaned back just enough to get a better view of Charles’ chest and began to unbutton his shirt, one painstaking button at a time. Erik watched Charles’ chest rise and fall as he trailed his fingers down his chest. Erik couldn’t help the rush of pleasure at the quiver that ran through Charles’ body at his touch.

After swooping back in for a deep kiss, Erik stood up and quickly shucked his pants and boxers off.

“Erik...” Charles breathed.

“Come on.” Erik extended his hand to Charles and led him to the bedroom.

When he reached the bed, he stopped and gave Charles a heated kiss.

“Close your eyes.” Erik instructed.

“I thought you were claiming your prize?” Charles teased, but he followed Erik’s command and closed his eyes.

Erik took a moment to pause, to slow things down, to savour the moment.

The last month had been difficult for them both: more time apart then either of them would have liked. Erik knew he felt overworked and stretched thin and Charles had to be feeling even worse. He had been plagued by migraines, often coming over to Erik’s and collapsing into bed as soon as Erik managed to get some food into him. Romantic nights full of laughter and sex had been few and far between.

On those nights where Erik had laid in bed with Charles fast asleep beside him, he had a lot of time to look down at his sleeping boyfriend and to think. Sometimes he thought about how wonderful it would be when Charles never had to leave, when he could sleep in Erik’s bed, their bed, every night. He thought about how next year, hopefully, Charles would find a new part time job and Erik could walk on campus with him, holding his hand, like any other couple. 

He thought about the noises Charles made the first time Erik’s had rimmed him, probing inside with his tongue – those grasping sobs and the filthy words Charles had muttered were still so vivid and arousing that Erik could get half hard just playing the memory over in his head. He remembered the beautiful sheen of sweat on Charles’ chest as he’d ridden Erik’s cock and fucked Erik so thoroughly Erik had been unable to form sentences afterward.

Charles was a sexual partner Erik wouldn’t have thought possible to find. He was so expressive, so sensitive to Erik’s every touch. Aside from some initial hesitancy at the very start of their relationship, Charles had taken to each new experience like a child with a new toy: eager, enthusiastic and full of unrepressed joy.

Sometimes Erik thought Charles gave too much. Tonight, tonight Erik was determined to give something back. Not that his plans were completely selfless – Erik had been thinking about this, wanting it, for some time. Now, with Charles standing in his bedroom, white button down shirt now undone, a pale line of skin visible, Charles beautiful pink cock standing at attention, now it was time.

Erik reached over to his bedside table, took out the supplies and got himself into position.

“Open your eyes.”

* * *

Charles was suffused with curiosity. Standing in Erik’s room, eyes closed, waiting was a... unique experience. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all, but he trusted Erik completely.

He felt his lips quirk into a smile at the sound of rustling and finally, finally Erik’s voice rang out.

“Open your eyes.”

Charles let his eyes open slowly and he was glad he had – the sight before him struck him like a bolt of lust straight to the groin.

“Erik...?” Charles stammered out, shocking and not quite processing.

Because Erik was on the bed, naked, on his hands and knees, a jar of lube placed beside him. He looked like some sort of sacrificial offering. Charles’ mouth went dry.

Erik met his gaze, his eyes glassy and heavy lidded. “I’d very much like you to fuck me Charles.”

Charles wished he could say he’d had some sort of seductive reply to Erik’s offer. Unfortunately, he simply stood there, mouth gaping.

“Unless you’d rather not.” Erik muttered with a frown.

“NO!” Charles managed to get out, moving himself forward until he was kneeling on the bed at Erik’s feet. “No, I do. I’m simply... I hadn’t expected... I hadn’t expected this.”

Charles ran a hand over Erik’s lower back, entranced by the shivers that ran through Erik’s body as his hand drifted to the top of Erik’s ass, fingers skimming lightly. Charles levered himself up and pressed his lips along the line of Erik’s spine, following it down from his shoulders to the gentle curve of his ass.

Erik’s body was such a thing of beauty: all masculine grace, clean lines, and lean muscles. Charles had kissed a great deal of Erik’s body before, but not like this. Not with Erik in such a position of vulnerability, of surrender. It was quite astounding.  
Charles moved slowly, carefully cataloguing every inch of Erik’s exposed back. He let himself drape himself over Erik’s impossibly lean torso, until their thighs were touching and his cock brushed against the curve of Erik’s ass. He stopped, their bodies breathing together, his chest touching Erik’s back, his hands rubbing circles on Erik’s stomach, his nose breathing deep as he nuzzled Erik’s neck.

He dipped two fingers into the jar of lube beside him and circled Erik’s hole lazily. Never pushing, just testing and teasing. Erik rocked back into him and Charles groaned.

“Please, Charles.” Erik whispered.

“I... you’ll tell me if I hurt you?” Charles whispered back, unable to keep his anxiety at bay.

He’d never done this; never even really thought he would be doing this. Compared to the hours of reading Charles had done before giving Erik a blow job, he’d done almost nothing to prepare for this.

“If you don’t put your finger in me, Charles, I will reach back there and do it for you.” Erik growled.

“Shh, darling. There’s no need for that.” Charles smiled against Erik’s back.

He pushed himself as far up as he could until he could reach Erik’s shoulder and sank his teeth playfully into the tender flesh at the junction of Erik’s neck, sinking one finger into Erik’s ass at the same time.

“Fuck.” Erik huffed, his hips stopping their thrusts.

Charles gave them both a moment to adjust to the new sensation and then he started moving, pumping his finger into Erik’s ass, twisting it slowly. It felt like only seconds before Erik was panting and begging for more and Charles, with only a pause to add more lube, happily obliged him by adding a second finger.

Charles was panting against Erik’s shoulder, his tongue licking lazy circles in time with the twisting of his fingers, When Erik suddenly arched his back and keened.

“Oh...” Charles startled. “Is that the spot, love?” Charles whispered. “Just there?” He rubbed his fingers firmly inside off Erik, causing him to arch once more.

“Fuck...more. I need you Charles.”

By now Erik was rutting frantically against Charles’ hand and Charles simply could not come up with any reason to deny him. Charles continued pumping his fingers, scissoring them to prep Erik as much as he could, while stumbling with his other hand to slick himself up.

When Charles was finally ready, slipping his fingers out to replace them with the head of his cock, Erik was muttering strings of curses and demanding Charles to ‘hurry up and fuck me’. It might have been amusing and flattering if Charles wasn’t so overcome with the need to not mess this up and make this experience good for Erik.

Almost as if Erik knew Charles was out of his element and unsure, as soon as Charles sank inside of the glorious tight heat of Erik’s body, Erik simply... took over. He bucked, he swore, he ordered Charles to move faster and harder, and Charles obeyed until they were both covered in a sweat and panting.

Charles knew at this pace, with the heady sensation of being wrapped up inside of someone for the first time, the tight, hot heat of it, the incredible intimacy of the moment, that he couldn’t last long. As he followed Erik’s increasingly frantic demands for more, he reached around and gripped Erik’s cock firmly, giving it long, hard strokes. He let his head fall onto Erik’s back and he thrust harder and faster, holding firm to Erik’s hip to keep himself steady as Erik rutted strongly underneath him. It was all so intense, almost animalistic and completely unlike any other time he and Erik had ever had sex. It was heady and needy and oh so good.

It was all very quickly approaching too good and knowing he couldn’t hold off his orgasm much longer, Charles intensified his strokes on Erik’s cock, and repositioned himself behind Erik; one leg up in a kneeling position to give him better support and increase the power of his thrusts. The slight change in position changed the angle of his cock inside Erik just enough, enough that Charles hit Erik’s prostate with his next stroke.

If Charles had thought Erik had been enthusiastic before, it was nothing compared to what happened now. Erik’s bucking became so powerful, so abandoned, that Charles had to let go of Erik’s cock and grab his hips hard enough to bruise with both hands and just hold on.

Just when Charles was sure he couldn’t possible last a moment longer, Erik groaned out his name and came, his ass convulsing around Charles’ cock, causing Charles to fall right over the edge with him.

* * *

“Charles? Liebling?” Erik brushed Charles’ floppy hair out of his eyes and kissed the corner of his mouth softly.

“I’m not sure I have it in me to do that again in the foreseeable future.” Charles muttered. “I may need some sort of ‘fucking Erik Lehnsherr exercise routine’.”

Erik laughed. “My desire to be fucked is... variable. I haven’t done it in a long time.” Erik admitted.

“Killed the last man, did you?” Charles teased.

Erik grinned, teeth flashing. “Next time I’ll ride you and you can sit back and enjoy it.”

“That sounds... acceptable.” Charles smirked and leaned in to nuzzle into Erik’s chest.

“So...” Erik began, already feeling awkward before he’d even got his statement out, “Moira invited us over to her place for dinner on Saturday.” 

Charles looked up at him, brow arched, but said nothing.

“She said I am to compel you to come by telling you she is making hamburgers and has Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.”

Charles’ brow arched higher. “Really.”

“Yes, really.”

“And what do you think? About her invitation?”

“I think if we don’t go, she will pester me until we do. I think if we don’t go, she will somehow make me agree to weekly dates nights, her included, until the end of time. I think going now may be the best option of getting her off my back – and yours too – for the time being.”

“She’s been worried about you.” Charles commented mildly and Erik knew, even though he’d barely felt anything, that Charles had slipped into his mind and watched his memory of his conversation with Moira.

“Yes. They aren’t unfounded concerns. I’ve been grumpy. You haven’t been well.” Erik shrugged.

“We should go.” Charles stated. “Present a solid front. Show Moira we’re both fine. It should help her back off a bit I should think.”

“She said we could stop by Friday at six o’clock.” Erik paused. “You want to me to confirm, then?”

“Yes.” Charles nodded. “Tell her yes. And tell her she’d better have Karamel Sutra Core Ben and Jerry’s, or I may have to reconsider.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

* * *

Moira wasn’t sure what she’d expected when Erik had told her he and Charles would have dinner with her Saturday night. Maybe she’d thought they would be distant with each other, just as they were in public. Or perhaps she’d thought this was her chance to find chinks is the armour of their relationship. 

Either way, she hadn’t expected this – this night full of laughter and good cheer. She hadn’t expected Charles to make her and Erik laugh with stories about his past as a sixteen-year-old freshman at Harvard trying to be a good parental figure to his eleven-year-old sister. Apparently, Charles had burned just about every food item imaginable and regularly let Raven pack her own lunches that contained bags of chips, cold pop tarts and leftover Halloween candy until her school had called to complain.  
She hadn’t expected to watch Charles pack away two loaded hamburgers and an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s – despite her claim of understanding Charles’ penchant for food. 

Most of all she hadn’t expect Erik to be so in love and for Charles to return that love full force. They were both so careful on campus these days – never touching, limiting their time together to mostly within the confines of Erik’s office during Charles’ working hours. Moira approved of that. She couldn’t even deny there was still a small part of her that hoped they might drift apart, that kind of natural distance that develops between couples who get together and rush into things only to realize they’ve made a horrible mistake.

That had not happened. Tonight made that abundantly clear. Erik watched Charles like he was the most fascinating person he had ever seen. Charles, in turn, accepted Erik’s moods; his anger, his snipes, his negativity with a serene calmness and a small accepting smile. He wasn’t afraid to challenge Erik, or outright contradict him and Moira could tell that some of the topics they’d discussed that night were familiar territory for them, but Charles had the unique ability to debate without anger, without ever taking things too personally.

They touched at her flat; frequently. They held hands at the table and let their legs brushed together when they sat on the couch. Erik seemed drawn to Charles hair – always tucking it behind his ear or brushing it off his forehead. They were... cozy.  
Moira couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, what with her own difficulties in the romance department. Since her disastrous date earlier in the year, Moira had avoided dating apps and dating in general. Although, there had been that one man... but he’d clearly been far too young for her.

Speaking of young men, Moira turned her attention to Charles. With Erik off in the bathroom, this was her chance to talk to him alone.

“You seem happy, Charles.”

“I am, Professor.” Charles smiled softly.

“It’s a good look on you. And Erik.” Moira commented.

“I imagine happiness looks good on just about everybody.” Charles commented wryly.

“I guess you’re right.” Moira agreed. “Listen, I wanted to tell you, Samuelson is defending his thesis this spring. If he’s successful, and I have no reason to doubt he will be, I’ll have a position open for a new research assistant. You, of course, are an excellent candidate for the position.”

“Really?” Charles exclaimed. “That would be... that would be incredible. I will get my CV ready immediately!”

“I can’t guarantee anything, you know that right? I have to look over all the applicants -”

“Of course. Of course, I understand.” Charles nodded, a wide smile brightening his face.

“You are kind of adorable you know.” Moira said, with sincere fondness.

Charles smile, so genuine and sweet, warmed her heart. She knew that she shouldn’t technically be giving Charles an advantage over the other candidates, but having the opportunity to give Charles a chance at a different job next year had been too good to pass up. Seeing the love between them, Moira couldn’t help but want to put Erik and Charles in a position where they didn’t have to be secretive about their relationship.

“It’s all part of his irresistible Xavier charm.” Erik’s voice rang out from behind her.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Moira replied. “I’m going to start the dishes. You guys relax for a bit before you have to head home – it’s getting late.”

* * *

Erik watched Moira head into her kitchen before he turned to look at Charles, who was now standing in front of Moira’s large living room window.

He was glad that Moira was winding down the evening. He could see Charles’ cracks showing again: his hands were shaking slightly, his forehead was sweaty, and he was rubbing his temples every fifteen minutes. It was definitely time to leave.  
Erik walked up behind Charles slowly and eased his arms around his waist.

“You’re tired.”

“I am.” Charles said softly. “There’s this strange... presence at the edge of my consciousness. It’s dark and I feel like its sucking what little energy I have out of my body. It won’t let me rest.”

“Charles...” Erik frowned, letting his head rest on Charles shoulder. “you’re over tired. What you’re feeling, it’s just the stress of the past month catching up with you. Let me take you home.”

Charles leaned back and Erik took the opening, letting his mouth skim over Charles neck.

“Please.” Charles whispered. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Anderson had been following Charles Xavier for over a month. He was beginning to worry that Clarke’s theory – the theory that Xavier was hiding something about his mutation – was wrong. Clarke, as expected, refused to admit defeat. He insisted Xavier was hiding something.

Anderson knew quite a bit about Xavier at this point. He knew his class schedule. He knew the man spent an absurd amount of time in the labs of the biology building with his research partner Hank McCoy. He knew that Xavier fell asleep in that lab at least once a week. He knew Xavier couldn’t make it through his endless lab sessions without drinking cup after cup of Earl Grey tea. He knew Xavier lived in a junky building in a poor area of town and that his sister complained loudly about the stairs up to their attic flat every time they brought groceries home. He knew Xavier and Lehnsherr had a strangely amiable relationship (Lehnsherr was not known as a ‘friendly’ man) and that the Mutant Counselling Office had been buzzing with activity this past month.

Despite all this knowledge, he had no idea what Xavier’s mutation might be. He had never, ever shown any odd or super-human abilities. Frankly, aside from being well liked by his acquaintances, Xavier was rather boring.

His mission, as it were, mostly felt pointless.

Except tonight.

Tonight, he had followed Xavier as he’d taken the bus to a much nicer area of the city. He’d been surprised when Xavier had knocked on the door in a very well to do neighbourhood and Professor MacTaggart had opened it up and welcomed him in. It wasn’t unheard of for doctoral advisors to form friendships with their students, nor was it against policy, but Anderson had not been aware that Xavier and MacTaggart had anything other than a professional relationship.

Then, not five minutes later, Lehnsherr had appeared.

Anderson stood wide-eyed and stunned for several minutes in the park across the street. When the fog of surprise cleared, he took his time coming up with a plan. He needed to get closer to that flat. He knew, somehow, that it was imperative that he see what was going on in there.

He waited ten minutes before making his move. He thought, perhaps, another guest might arrive. He had speculated with Clarke about Lehnsherr having someone in his life, a girlfriend, and Anderson half expected her to arrive to this little evening engagement. So he waited.

No one came. 

Anderson took out his long-distance camera lens and set himself up in the best position he could – close enough to get reasonably good photographs, but secluded enough not to be observed. He was immensely thankful MacTaggart had a ground floor flat – so much easier to surveil.

He snapped away. For hours.

It was beginning to look like another pointless endeavour. Another night spent out in the cold for nothing.

Then Xavier stood by the front window, perfectly framed by the light in MacTaggart’s flat, hands in his pockets. Even through his lens, half a block away, Anderson could see the exhausted look on his face.

Anderson was mindlessly clicking away, taking photo after photo, when Lehnsherr appeared in the frame behind Xavier. At first, Anderson thought nothing of it; there wasn’t anything to think, it was simply a man standing behind another man. Perhaps they were both looking out at the night sky.

Looking at his camera Anderson absently noted Lehnsherr was moving closer. Then his finger stuttered and he a missed a beat, his rhythm interrupted by pure astonishment. He had to consciously make himself begin again, clicking even more frantically than he had before – taking as many photographs as he possible could. 

This was it. This was the moment they had been waiting for. Clarke finally had the leverage he needed.

Xavier wasn’t using his powers. He wasn’t doing anything more than standing in a window.

But Lehnsherr, Lehnsherr was right behind him, arms wrapped tightly around Xavier’s waist, planting kisses along Xavier’s neck. Lehnsherr was seeing someone – and that someone was Xavier. It didn’t get more incriminating than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading, commenting and leaving kudos on this fic. It means so very much to me.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going well, Charles and Erik have a lovely day together, Raven leaves on her trip. Then, everything starts to unravel...

  
**Chapter 20**

Raven stood among her classmates and cringed. Charles looked horrible: he was wearing a strange raggedy housecoat under his jacket, his hair was sticking up, and his was clutching a cup of tea in one hand. He was also pacing and muttering under his breath and people, people she was about to spend a week with in Paris and who up until this point had thought she was a pretty cool person, were giving him odd looks.

“Did you pack toothpaste?” Charles asked, his voice ringing out.

“Of course I did, Charles.” Raven hissed. “I packed everything on that list. I am not a child.”

Charles simply frowned ducking his head back down to keep reading the ‘Recommended Packing’ list sent home by the school. Thankfully he stopped pacing.

Raven stepped over beside Charles and whispered aggressively. “Stop being weird! I would really like to leave on this trip without everyone thinking I’m a complete loser.”

“I just want to make sure you have everything. You’ll be in a foreign country and I won’t be there and if something happens -”

“Nothing is going to happen. And we have three chaperons for a dozen students! Everything is going to be fine.” She sighed. 

The problem was that in order to get to her school at the scheduled departure time she and Charles had had to get up at 6am on a Sunday. Charles simply was not functional at 6am most days, and definitely not on Sunday. 

“We went over all this last night.” Raven muttered, cursing the early departure time. “You’re just still half asleep and you don’t remember. Please Charles, will you just… stop being so anxious. Everything is going to be fine. I’m going to go on this trip and see a bunch of art and maybe get really drunk and make out with a hot guy or two and you, you are going to have a week just you and Erik, alone, every night.”

Charles smiled dreamily. “That will be nice – the Erik and me part, not the you getting drunk part. Don’t think I didn’t hear that just because its early in the morning.” Charles admonished. “My hearing is perfectly fine.”

“Listen, Mr. Pomeroy is here and taking attendance. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Can we just, like, hug or something and say goodbye and I’ll go off and join my friends and you’ll go home and get some sleep and stop being a complete and total embarrassment?”

“Oh, am I embarrassing you?” Charles asked innocently. “You know I’m feeling rather warm… perhaps I should take my jacket off?”

Raven managed to suppress a shriek of horror as she tackled Charles in what was part hug, part restraint.

“That is not funny Charles!” She hissed. “That housecoat should be burned – you will keep it hidden under that jacket or so help me god...”

“This is quite the hug. You’ll clearly be lost without me. How will you survive the week?” Charles teased. “Perhaps I could sneak onto the bus, hide beneath my robe in the very back -”

Raven whacked Charles on the head and he stopped mid-sentence, chuckling and swatting her hands away.

“I’ll miss you; you know.” Charles said, squeezing her fiercely.

“You are such a sap.” Raven accused before sinking into Charles embrace, finally standing still and just holding him. “I have to go. Mr. Pomeroy is giving me a dirty look.”

Raven pulled back and pushed a lock of Charles’ unruly hair out of his eyes.

“I’ll miss you too, you ridiculous dork.”

“I want a nightly text – no excuses.” Charles instructed.

“Deal.” Raven smiled softly. “I really have to go, Charles.”

“I know.” Charles stepped back, finally releasing her hand. “Go have fun. Use the strawberry flavoured condoms as needed.”

Raven let out a small laugh as she backed away, giving Charles one more good look before she turned around and joined her classmates in the line for the bus.

When she was seated on the bus beside Kitty who was already talking a mile a minute about how they could ‘totally sneak out’ of their hotel room in Paris, it struck Raven that this was the first time in seven years that she and Charles would be apart for longer than a couple days. 

When she was thirteen, Charles had tried to send her to an overnight camp for the summer. It was supposed to last two weeks, but Raven had called him begging him to take her home by the second morning. At the time, without Charles, Raven had trouble controlling her mutation and it had taken the kids at camp about two seconds to realize she was a ‘freak’. Thankfully, Charles had rushed out to get her, wrangling a ride from a neighbour of theirs who looked like a lumberjack. Raven had never been so happy to see Charles in all of her life. They’d agreed to never, ever try summer camp again.

Not that Raven was nervous about this trip – she wasn’t. She was excited. This trip was going to be the best thing ever. It was going to be great. Nothing, absolutely nothing bad was going to happen.

Raven had friends with her – like Kitty and Bobby, fellow mutants. And Charles had Erik.

Everything is going to be fine.

* * *

Charles’ breathed hitched and he dug his fingers into the cushion of the couch, arching his spine as a wave of desire washed through his body.

“Oh god, Erik.” Charles groaned out as he felt Erik’s massive cock bottom out, seated fully inside of him. “It feels… you’re so...” Charles let the words hang, unable to form a complete sentence as Erik continued his long, deep thrusts.

Charles could feel his eyes rolling up into his skull. He could almost swear that he felt every inch, every ridge of Erik’s cock, Erik’s pace was so perfectly, achingly slow. Almost all the way out, and then a gradual slide back in, until Charles could feel Erik’s balls against his ass. Charles felt Erik panting in his ear, his body draped completely over his own.

“Let me in, Charles.” Erik whispered.

Charles shivered when Erik’s tongue flicked out and traced his ear lobe, a playful contrast to Erik’s other careful, measured movements.

“Let me in.” Erik repeated, stroking a hand down Charles’ arm and linking their fingers together in a tight fist.

With his body stretched as far as it could to accommodate Erik’s considerable girth, and Erik now barely thrusting, just making the slightest little jerks deep inside of Charles, his request might have seemed pointless. Except Charles knew Erik didn’t want access to his body (he clearly already had that), he wanted access to Charles’ mind. He wanted to experience what Charles was feeling and he wanted Charles to feel the same in return.

Charles had turned down this request before, several times, over the past month. He’d been stretched too thin, he’s telepathy felt like it was balanced on the finest edge and any little thing might tip him over. He’d been hesitant. No, he’d been scared.

Today, however he’d seen Raven off on her trip and Erik had been waiting for him at his flat when he got back with a feast of waffles and whipped cream and strawberries. Some of that whipped cream had even been eaten on the waffles. The rest however, had been happily licked off various body parts, which had led to a comedic shared cleansing session in Charles’ tiny shower, which might have been sexy and romantic had they not been elbowing each other in the gut every five seconds. After, feeling sated and relaxed, they’d spent a lazy afternoon playing chess and talking until Charles had fallen asleep, head in Erik’s lap as he read Charles’ battered copy of Dune.

When Charles had woken up, Erik had pounced on him. Now, Charles was bent over the arm of the couch, with Erik so deep inside him there was hardly air between their bodies and yet still, Erik wanted more.

Today though, today, Charles finally felt calm enough, balanced far enough away from the edge of his telepathy, to try. He let his shields drop, not all the way, but enough to allow him to be deeper inside another person’s mind than he had been for years. 

He reached out, letting himself sink into Erik’s mind, mingling and sharing. The feeling of fullness, of having Erik so deep inside him, the hot heat of Erik’s breath on his neck, the weight of Erik’s chest pressed into his back, the enticing tickle of Erik’s fingers on his stomach. In return, Charles could feel the blinding pleasure of the tightness surrounding Erik’s cock, the tension in his fingers as they entwined themselves with Charles’ own, the shaking of the muscles in Erik’s thighs. Most of all he could feel love and a burning desire to move.

 _“Yes, Erik. Please, love. Please move.”_ Charles projected, accompanied by a buck of his hips.

“Liebling.” Erik murmured into his ear, so softly Charles almost wasn’t sure he’d spoken aloud.

Before Charles could even question his hearing, Erik pulled back and plunged forward, driving Charles firmly into the couch. Erik set a brutal pace; he was unrelenting. All the while Charles maintained their mental link, so completely overwhelmed with sensation he could barely distinguish between his feelings and Erik’s, every touch, every emotion blended until Charles wasn’t sure where he ended, and Erik began.

Charles was drifting so pleasantly in the shared sensation that he startled when Erik’s hand gripped his hip tightly and he began jack knifing his hips. Charles could here Erik’s internal thoughts, as usual so focused, so Erik: _‘Mine, Charles, love, need, mine, more, love, love, love.’_

With the constant friction against his prostate, the emotional impact of Erik’s words and the feeling of Erik’s cock being squeezed tightly bleeding through their mental link, Charles exploded. Milliseconds later, Erik groaned, and Charles could feel the pulsing of his cock almost as if it was his own.

Charles thought dreamily about how perfect this all was, a lazy smile spreading across his face, before his legs turned to jelly and he slumped bonelessly downward. Erik’s strong arms wrapped around him instantly, easing them both to the ground where they huddled for several minutes, breathes mingling until Erik had the strength to stand, picking Charles up as if he weighed nothing and taking him to his bedroom. 

Despite his earlier nap, Charles fell asleep almost instantly, curled up in the security of Erik’s arms and wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

* * *

Erik let his fingers comb through Charles’ hair, savouring the soft, silky texture, his eyes closed, body relaxed, heart full. Several moments later, he felt the cadence of Charles’ breathing change and the younger man began to stir.

“Have I been out long?” Charles mumbled; voice scratchy with sleep.

“No.” Erik replied. “Maybe twenty minutes? You needed it.” Erik opened his eyes and looked down at Charles. “You’ve been exhausted for a month.”

“I feel like I’ve wasted half the day sleeping.” 

“It wasn’t a waste.” Erik corrected, kissing Charles’ hair. “The day’s been rather perfect.” Erik smiled. “Good food, sex, sleep, chess, sex. No bothersome sister. Perfection.”

Charles laughed. “It is rather nice to be able to have sex in my own flat without fear of recrimination.”

Erik let himself smile into Charles’ hair. It wasn’t often he got to hear this kind of lightness in Charles’ voice, not this past month at least. There was a serenity between them now that they’d hardly experienced since before Moira discovered them at his flat. The ease of if all, the comfort caused a question to slip past his lips before he even had time to consider his words.

“When did your powers manifest? I remember you said you were young.”

Charles stiffened momentarily, took a deep breath against Erik’s side, and answered: “I was three.”

“That’s incredibly young.” Erik murmured, eyebrows shooting up.

“My father said I stopped talking. That’s how he knew something was wrong. He initially thought autism, or perhaps some sort of rare brain disorder. Testing revealed it was a mutation.” Charles said, voice quiet and devoid of emotion.

“His testing?” Erik asked.

“Hmm.” Charles mumbled. “He had a lab in the basement. My father was an innovative scientist. Very much ahead of his peers, particularly when it came to the understanding of genetics and mutation. He had a doctorate in Biochemistry. He was an incredible man.”

“An incredible man who ran experiments on his son.” Erik retorted.

“He did.” Charles agreed. “But he wanted to protect me. He understood the risks, the danger I might face in the future. My telepathy… it became very strong very quickly. My father had to work very hard to help me learn control.”

“How did he do that?”

“Initially he used suppressants – there weren’t any other options really. How can you teach control to a four-year-old who keeps making the cook give him cookies?” Charles laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. “You likely wouldn’t remember my father’s company, The Xavier Research Group, but you’re no doubt familiar with the current iteration of the company, now run by my stepfather: Marko Pharmaceuticals.”

“Marko… they’re the biggest producer of suppressants in the world!” Erik sat up straight and looked down at Charles, completely shocked. “They hold at least 75% of the market for all suppressants in the United States. They’ve been linked to the illegal sale of suppressants to Third World dictators!”

“Indeed. One of the many reasons Kurt and I did not see eye to eye.” Charles confirmed.

“Did he...did Marko make you use suppressants? Like your father did?”

“My father gave me suppressants as a child. Perhaps for longer than he should have. But he realized, in the end, suppressants did not truly teach me control. They simply… took something away. He stopped giving them to me when I was five. We spent that summer at our estate in upstate New York. He let most of the staff off for holidays, keeping only those most essential to the upkeep of the house. We worked on nothing but control: fine tuning my ability to distinguish thoughts from spoken words, how to not react to surprising thoughts, how to shield. I’m afraid the poor staff that were present were hardly more than guinea pigs to test my abilities… it isn’t a time a like to think about.” Charles admitted.

“You were a child doing what his father told him to do. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” Erik spoke softly, placing a gentle kiss on Charles’ forehead. “And you didn’t answer my question about Kurt. Did he force you to take suppressants?”

“Yes, he did.” Charles shifted in Erik’s arms, burrowing deeper into his chest. “He was afraid of my telepathy, and yet also fixated on it. He saw it was a weapon – he wanted to use it for military purposes, but also knew it could be turned on him. When I left Westchester with Raven, I swore I would never used suppressants again and I haven’t.”

“He was a coward. Bullies usually are.” Erik grumbled.

If Kurt were here right now, he would flay the man alive, slowly piece by piece and enjoy every minute of it, Erik thought savagely.

“That’s quite gruesome, darling.” Charles murmured, his hand bunching up the fabric of Erik’s shirt. “He’s not worth the trouble.” Charles declared, looking up and meeting Erik’s gaze. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

Erik looked back at Charles and studied him in silence. He wondered how Charles had lived the life he had, a life so full of pain, a life with so very little love and affection, and yet become such a good man. He let his gaze travel over the faint lines around Charles’ forehead, the fading but still present darkness under his eyes. Even now, even lying in bed with Erik after a day of relaxed pleasure, Erik could see the strain on his face, he could see the cracks in the facade. 

“How long has it been since you let yourself go? How long has it been since you had no restraint, no limits on your powers?” Erik asked, even though he suspected he knew the answer.

“A while I suppose.” Charles shrugged, dismissive.

“How long Charles?” Erik repeated, his voice firm, but his touch, trailing his fingers along Charles’ arm was as gentle as a summer’s breeze.

“Since my father died.” Charles whispered. “We had one last summer in Westchester. One last summer where I practiced my abilities with his guidance. I was seven. And then he died.”

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Charles.” Erik rushed to continued as Charles had immediately opened his mouth to argue with him. “I know your reasons and I understand that for now this is how things have to be, but it can’t go on like this. You have to get away somewhere, somewhere that you can let go and give your telepathy free rein.”

Charles frowned and said nothing, refusing to meet Erik’s eyes any longer.

“I feel like you’re killing yourself slowly; a death by a thousand tiny cuts. But a death all the same. Your body can’t do this indefinitely, Charles. Please, let me take you away. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. Somewhere you can just… be you, no impositions, no limits. Just you, Charles the omega level telepath.”

“I… I’ll think about it.” Charles said softly after several moments.

“Thank you.” Erik replied. “Thank you.”

Erik hoped Charles would eventually say yes. Having a chance to take the weariness, the fatigue off of Charles’ face was more than a luxury, it was a necessity. All those years pretending to be something he wasn’t, it’s no wonder Charles was exhausted. To see Charles unrestrained, to know how truly powerful he could be, the mere prospect of it made Erik tremble with anticipation. A Charles without limits would be a quite a thing to behold. He was absolutely sure of it.

* * *

Charles was not generally a fan of Mondays. This was partly due to the fact that they fell right after his favourite day of the week – Sunday. This Sunday had been an astonishingly good Sunday. Charles had expected to start this Monday in a state not dissimilar to a hangover: the crash of the Monday blues after the bliss of an exceptionally perfect Sunday.

Unexpectedly, however, his morning was rose tinted, not blue. The difference of course was Erik. Waking up in Erik’s arms, their legs tangled together. Eating a vegetarian omelet Erik had made for breakfast instead of sugary cereal. It had almost been like a scene from a future life; a life where Charles and Erik lived together, ate breakfast together, shared the sink while brushing their teeth, and could kiss whenever they wanted.

Except of course that wasn’t the here and now. Charles had still left his flat early to take the bus to Oxford. Erik had gone out for a run, a run that would lead him right back to his own flat so he could drive in to work as usual. Appearances had to be maintained.

Still, the Oxford air was fresh and invigorating. Charles walked with purpose and determination. He could still feel the tingle of Erik’s kisses on his lips. Weekday morning kisses in Erik’s office were generally hurried and a bit desperate, the fear of detection never far from their minds. This morning though, the kisses had been soft and drawn out, slow and deep; consuming. Charles thought it likely that he would be daydreaming about those kisses until he and Erik were back together this evening, blanketed in the privacy of Erik’s flat.

Charles walked across campus, making his way from Erik’s office over to the Biology building for his first class with a spring in his step. A extra spring that stopped immediately when Charles felt the presence of his stalker. At first it was nothing more than a flicker, as it often was since the stalker was no doubt trying to keep his distance and remain obscured from Charles’ view. This time, however, Charles could feel the man’s mind getting closer and closer. 

It was several moments before Charles could read clear surface thoughts and even then they were fractured, bouncing between ideas so quickly Charles could barely make sense of the chaos. He could say with certainty that the spy was thinking about him, he was angry… no he was triumphant? He was full of a righteous indignation and all of that emotion was directed, at least in fleeting moments, toward Charles.

Sensing that his stalker may not be able to hold back today, that he may be about to reveal himself, Charles took a steadying breath and fortified his shields. He kept walking, doing his best to keep his stride even, to be unaffected and appear unaware. He could not seem to keep from clenching his hand around the strap of his book bag as he moved forward, grounding himself to the familiar feel of the leather.

Within moments a young man cut in front of Charles, causing Charles to stop walking completely to avoid running into him. The man was perhaps a few years older than Charles, a few inches taller as well. His appearance, as one might expect of a man who had been stalking and spying on a student for over a month, was non-descript; brown hair, brown eyes, beige trousers, a black pea coat. Charles was certain he was the man he had seen in the classroom all those weeks ago – Clarke’s minion. They both stared at each other and the silence stretched.

Charles stood still, head high and awaited his fate. He would not be the one to break this stalemate.

“It’s over Xavier.” The man finally spoke, his voice harsh. “Your secret… it isn’t a secret anymore.”

“My apologies.” Charles replied, his voice even and controlled. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, who are you exactly?”

“I’m Thomas Anderson. Professor Clarke’s assistant.” The man answered, scowling.

“Well, Mr. Anderson, I’m afraid I have no idea what you are trying to imply. I have no horrible secret to be revealed.” Charles countered, proud to sound more confident than he felt.

Anderson smirked and Charles felt his stomach drop. With his shields so strongly in place he couldn’t read why Anderson was so smug, but he could still feel his confidence, his utter certainty that he had Charles pushed into a corner.

“I have class Mr. Anderson. If you’ll excuse me.” 

Charles attempted to step forward, only to have Mr. Anderson sidestep and block his way.

“Saturday night.” Anderson stated. “I saw you on Saturday night.”

“Saturday night.” Charles repeated his heart pounding. “I don’t believe I did anything secretive on Saturday night.”

“You did something you should have kept secret.” Anderson grinned wickedly. “You should really be more aware of what you do in front of windows. You never know who might be watching.”

“Are you saying you’ve been stalking me, Mr. Anderson? Because that is clearly a crime.” Charles said, refusing to back down in the face of Anderson’s threats.

“I would be a lot more concerned about myself if I were you. In particular, I would be very, very concerned about my relationship with a certain faculty member and the fact that that relationship, that ‘secret’ relationship is no longer a secret. It is now a documented fact.”

Charles gut twisted and he had to breath through his nose to keep his stomach settled enough not to expel the contents of his breakfast at Anderson’s feet. 

A documented fact; he and Erik were a documented fact. At least according to this Anderson fellow. Who could be lying, except nothing that Charles could read off of him suggested he was lying, quite the opposite in fact. His surface thoughts held nothing but smug triumph, an absolute belief in his accusation.

“What supposed proof do you have, exactly of this alleged secret relationship.” Charles hedged.

Perhaps Anderson had seen them, but that would be his word against the word of others, and hardly conclusive. Given his level of confidence, Charles suspected he had more than his own eyes as evidence. The key was to determine what proof Anderson had, whether he said it aloud, or if Charles could use his currently limited abilities to glean the truth from his mind.

“Well, I’m hardly going to tell you that am I?” Anderson arched a brow and Charles stopped listening to Anderson’s words and started carefully sorting through his mind instead. “Suffice it to say what I do have, has been shared with Professor Clarke and he will use it accordingly.”

There it was; a memory. A window at dusk, two men framed inside of it, Erik’s lips on his neck, the click of a camera. Such a tender moment, a moment of comfort, now forever tinged with hateful glee as seen through Anderson’s eyes. Evidence.

“You’re story is nothing more than that – a story. I don’t believe you have any evidence. Your threats mean nothing to me.” Charles lied and stepped forward aggressively into Anderson’s space. “I will be going to my class now.”

Charles purposefully let his shoulder hit Anderson as he pushed passed. He was flooded with Anderson’s irate feelings, but also, with his plans. He was taking his evidence to Clarke and soon – his claim that Clarke already had the evidence was a lie, or at least a stretch of the truth. With such brief contact and elaborate shields Charles couldn’t tell when Anderson planned to meet Clarke, but their time was up. He and Erik, their relationship, was no longer a secret, at least not to the man they were most trying to hide it from.

Charles made it to his Intro to Genetics class with only a minute to spare. He could not leave the room and run to Erik’s office and prepare some sort of counterattack. He could not even text Erik to warn him. It was a very long two hours.

* * *

Erik took a long hard look at his phone for the fourth time. The message, no matter how much he longed for it to be different, read exactly the same this time as it had the first time.

_‘Anderson has photographic evidence of our relationship. He will be delivering that evidence to Clarke today. Fallout to be expected. Have a lab session with Hank after class – will try to get away early to see you.’_

Charles had sent him the text ten minutes ago and Erik had done nothing but stare at his phone ever since. He had no explanation for how this evidence had appeared, though he certainly trusted Charles’ report. If anyone could identify a liar, it was Charles.

Erik wanted to leave his office. He wanted to head over the lab right now, growl and rage until Hank cowered and left and Erik could have Charles to himself. He could hold him and tuck him under his arm and whisk him off campus to the safety and security of his flat where Clarke and his minion couldn’t touch them.

But he had a student sitting across from him. One with a complex housing issue that until ten minutes ago Erik had been quite driven to tackle. 

He knew he couldn’t leave. He knew even if he did leave and grab Charles and run, they wouldn’t really be safe from the fallout of Clarke knowing about their relationship. There was no hiding from this, no avoiding the consequences of their choices. 

Erik let out a slow breath and did his best to re-focus on the young man across from him.

Whatever Clarke did, whatever happened because of this newfound evidence, he and Charles would face it together.

* * *

Charles rushed over to the lab, determination in every step. He’d gone through what he would say to Hank in his head at least a dozen times before he even reached the building. Hank was an understanding friend Charles was sure he would see -

Charles’ head popped up as he was struck by an intense wave of fear and guilt. He was still several meters down the hall from the lab, but he knew Hank’s mind very well after their years of working together and he had no doubt that Hank was in some sort of distress. Charles picked up his pace and half jogged down the hall toward the lab, his own troubles forgotten.

Pushing through the door, Charles stepped into the room determined to help Hank in any way he could. It took less than a second for him to realize that Hank was not the biggest problem in the lab. 

Clarke was the problem. Clarke looming over Hank, who was sitting deflated on a lab stool, with a look of smug glee on his face was definitely the issue.

Suddenly, without even reaching out with his telepathy, Charles knew. He’d never been the best at reading people or situations without some help from his telepathy – he often missed the more subtle cues that non-psionics had learned to watch out for. But today, today he knew.

Hank looked at him, shattered, and opened his mouth to speak.

_‘No, Hank. Not a word.’ _Charles projected firmly.__

__

Hank’s eyes widened and it occurred to Charles belatedly that he had never communicated telepathically to his friend before, but he cannot bring himself to care. His focus is now completely directed toward Clarke.

Clarke was speaking and Charles could see his lips moving, but he wasn’t listening to his words. He already knew what Clarke was going to say. It’s as if time had slowed to a crawl and everything came into focus, like a microscope magnifying a sample. Charles’ telepathy, even restrained as it is, picked up everything Clarke and Hank were thinking with a startling clarity.

Clarke knew about his mutation; Hank had revealed that Charles was an omega level mutant. Clarke did not know exactly what Charles’ ability was, but he had made the connection he needed to make: the reality of Charles’ mutation and his level of power are vastly different than his documentation. It is all he needed to get Charles expelled from the university, which is exactly what he planned to do.

Charles’ future at Oxford was over. And it is only a matter of time before his time in England was over as well.

Charles could feel a tightness creeping into his chest and a ringing in his ears. 

Clarke was smiling, his speech (something about Charles being a liar, a dangerous threat to student safety and exactly the type of evidence Clarke needs to have all mutants removed from campus) has ended.

“Leave.” Charles said, his voice strangely devoid of emotion.

“It’s you who’ll be leaving my boy.” Clarke replied with a grin as he passed Charles and exited the room. “You’re career in academics is over.”

Charles didn’t move when Clarke brushed past him. He didn’t move when Hank stood up and rushed over to him, gesturing frantically and apologizing over and over again.

“You need to leave Hank.” He said, feeling completely detached, his body a separate entity from his mind.

“I’m so sorry, Charles!” Hank repeated. “We can fix this I’m sure. Maybe if we talk to Professor MacTaggert...”

Hank was pacing back and forth, and Charles closed his eyes hoping it might reduce the dizziness he was suddenly feeling. His head began to throb painfully. His breathing was shallow and ragged. He felt hot all over and he jerkily removed his book bag and his jacket to try and cool himself down. It was like he was coming apart at the seams. He honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself together.

 _‘Leave, Hank. Now.’_ Charles projected and he pushed none too gently until Hank was out the door and running, literally running, down the hall.

Alone in the lab, Charles tugged at the collar of his shirt, needing to be released from the constraint, but he couldn’t seem to make his fingers work. Spikes of pain shot through his skull and he strained with every inch of his ability to hold his shields.

Sinking to his knees, Charles thought about Erik. He thought about his smile, he thought about his beautiful hands, his long elegant fingers, he thought about his passion and his determination to protect mutants. Charles was going to ruin it all. He wished, for Erik’s sake, that they had never met.

 _‘I love you’_ he though fiercely. _‘I love you and I love Raven and I am so sorry. Please forgive me.’_

Charles knew he was about to break; it was only a matter of time. He couldn’t spare a thought to anything but the pain and the struggle to maintain his shields. He did his best to project out a clear thought _‘run, get away’_ as far as he could, but he couldn’t be sure if he’d succeeded. He hoped against hope that he had.

He felt the pressure against his shields pulsing, like he did that night at Erik’s flat. Except that night had been a rainstorm and today it’s a tsunami: Charles was fighting a battle he could not possibly win.

As one might expect with a tsunami, Charles’ shield’s didn’t crack, they burst and every bit of his power pulsed outward, out of control, obliterating everything in its path. Charles felt it, the physical pain, the mental anguish, the emotional turmoil, and he held himself together as his body convulsed, blood running down his face. He held himself firm longer than he could have ever thought possible, a few seconds at least, and then the world went black.

* * *

Erik was sitting at his desk with another student when he felt it, Charles’ presence at the edge of his consciousness. It was different than usual; it had a disorderly feeling, a lack of control Erik usually associated with Jean not Charles. He knew it was Charles though because the telepathic touch had been so full of love, and he could have sworn he almost heard Charles’ voice calling out his name.

“Mr. Lehnsherr? Are you okay?” The student across from him asked.

Erik blinked, realizing he must have been silent for several moments. Whatever he’d sensed was now gone, only silence remained.

“I apologize Billy. I thought I heard something.” Erik shook his head and tried his best to switch his focus back to the student in front of him.

A second later neither of them are back on track. Instead they both turn toward the window as a cacophony of noise rang out: screaming, loud crashing, and the eerie sound of bodies thudding to the ground.

“What the fuck…?” Billy gasped out, mouth hanging open.

They both watched as a steady stream of pedestrians on the lawn outside of Erik’s office window collapsed one by one.

“Get on the floor.” Erik ordered. “Get on the fucking floor!” 

Billy looked at him as if he was crazy, but Erik pulled the boy down to the floor with him. Clearly whatever was happening was going to hit them in a matter of seconds.

 _‘Charles!’_ Erik sent out frantically. _‘Charles!’_

Deep in his gut Erik knew he wouldn’t hear anything back from Charles. Because somehow he knew, this, whatever this was, was Charles. Erik spent his last seconds fortifying his shields and hoping. Hoping he might not be knocked out as it appeared everyone else had been. Hoping he might be able to withstand the storm and get himself to Charles, where he clearly needed to be.

He was feeling good about his chances as the seconds ticked by. Until beside him Billy dropped, and Erik felt the crash of psionic power flood over him.

Erik had time for one last thought, _‘no one can escape this’_ , before he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to my lovely beta for all her hard work. Any and all mistakes left are my own.
> 
> Thank you to all you dear readers who are still here with me, or those of you joining in for the first time. I'm almost done! Thank you so much for sticking with me.
> 
> All comments and kudos are treasured - please let me know what you think!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta for her help on this chapter and for helping me talk through the end of this fic - you are the best my friend!

There were three pens on his desk. There were two cell phones in the room and five more in the hall. There were twenty-five ambulances on the grounds. There were hundreds of guns.

Erik woke up from the blackout cataloguing all the metal around him; a completely automatic, unthinking response. There was familiarity in metal, and a sense of burgeoning reality, of groundedness. This was real. What Erik could sense with his mutation was real.

How Erik had ended up on the floor of his office, lying beside a still unconscious student did not yet feel real. It was a hazy, mysterious, chaotic thing. Nothing more than disjointed images and vague sensations. The only thing Erik knew with absolute certainty, was that he had to get up off the floor and find Charles. He couldn’t quite remember why, but he knew he had to get himself moving. 

A rising panic in his chest propelled him to push himself into a sitting position and he slowly looked around.

The student beside him (was it Bobby? Or Billy? Maybe Bailey?) lay still and unmoving. Aside from a trickle of dried blood coming out of his nose, he looked peaceful. As if he’d fallen asleep on the floor of Erik’s office in the middle of their session. Erik reached out to touch the young man’s neck and after a few seconds felt a steady pulse. He was alive, if not completely well.

Erik turned his attention from the young man beside him and back to his own body. He had to get his limbs to work, but no matter how he pushed with his arms and pulled on the desk beside him to leverage himself up, his legs would not co-operate. 

Feeling much more confident in his mutation than his physical body, Erik used his powers to lift himself up and leaned over his desk, taking his time to steady himself as his legs trembled and the pens on his desk shook in response to Erik’s flaring anger at being so helpless.

Charles did not have time for him to waste – Erik needed to get moving.

Standing up and putting one foot in front of the other was torturous, but Erik’s pushed the pain to the back of his mind and kept moving. His progress was slow but steady. With each step, a better picture of what had happened, of why he’d been lying on the floor formed in Erik’s mind: he had been counselling a student, he thought he’d heard Charles in his head, then people had started dropping like flies outside his window, and moments later so had Erik. 

Now, as he had then, Erik could not dismiss the intuitive sense that whatever had happened, whatever had caused all these people to collapse, had something to do with Charles. Charles and Clarke.

Erik wrenched the door of the building open and stepped outside to find himself surrounded by an Oxford the likes of which he had never seen before. The lawn was scattered with the bodies of collapsed students and swarming with paramedics trying to assist as many people as they could. Most affected by the event remain unconscious, but some were stirring. Erik could see that nose bleeds were a common side effect of the event. Some people had fallen off bikes. At least a few cars had crashed into trees, or other obstacles. Erik could not help but think it would be a miracle if no one died. The force of the psionic impact was so great, its unset so sudden, and its reach so broad – no one could have escaped.

Erik walked slowly across the grounds; his movements partially obscured by the smoke billowing out from two buses that collided on the main road outside his building. No one noticed him or appeared to care that he was one of the only people not wearing a uniform up and moving.

Erik kept expecting a paramedic to stop him and ask if he needed medical attention. Or worse, a police officer to stop him and demand he answer questions, but there were clearly more pressing concerns for the emergency responders. Erik passed by without incident.

When he entered the biology lab building, the halls were eerily silent. On his way over, Erik had passed hundreds of students and faculty members, all unconscious. This building was empty of any human presence.

Erik walked faster, as fast as he could make his legs carry him until he reached the end of the hall and swung open the door to Hank and Charles’ genetics lab. For a second, Erik saw nothing. No Hank. No Charles. Just an empty room.

Then he saw the corner of a book bag peeking out from behind the long line of lab counters. Erik lurched forward, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to get to the bag.

He rounded the corner, and his heart turned over in his chest.

“Charles.” He whispered raggedly, sinking to his knees.

Charles lay on the floor, pale and still. Erik pushed his drenched hair off his forehead and closed his eyes to try and block out the image in front of him. There was blood slowly running out of Charles nose and the corner of his mouth. Erik could see red claw marks at Charles’ temples, as if Charles had scratched himself from the agony in his own head. Charles’ clothes, like his hair, were damp with sweat.

Erik forced himself to open his eyes and examine every inch of Charles’ body. 

He could see no wounds. No bleeding other than what he had already noted on Charles’ face. When Erik touched Charles’ forehead, he pulled back quickly – Charles was quite literally burning up, hot to the touch and dewy with sweat. Every thirty seconds or so, Charles’ body would tremble and shake. Though he never opened his eyes, Erik could see his eyes moving under his eyelids.

Erik leaned over Charles, feeling the prickling of tears at the corner of his eyes. “I’m going to get help. You’re going to be fine. Do you hear me Charles? You’re going to be fine.”

Erik shuddered as he placed a gentle kiss on Charles too hot brow. He kept repeating those words: ‘Charles was going to be fine’ and he’d keep repeating them until he believed them. Until it was true.

* * *

“What happened to him? How did he collapse?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Erik glanced quickly around him at the beds full of unconscious and semi-conscious people in the A&E and thought the woman in front of him was asking pretty stupid questions for someone with a medical degree.

“Is he a mutant?” She asked pointedly.

“Yes.” Erik replied, frowning. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Can you give me basic information: name, age, any known allergies?” The doctor asked.

“His name is Charles. Charles Xavier. He’s twenty-two, a grad student. He’s allergic to cats. And you didn’t answer my question.” Erik growled. “Why the hell does it matter if he’s a mutant, or not? He deserves the same level of treatment as anyone else.”

“Of course he does.” The doctor paused to look at Erik. “Listen, we’re in crisis mode here, mister...?”

“Lehnsherr.”

“Mr. Lehnsherr. We’ve had over a hundred people admitted in the last thirty minutes, most of whom are unresponsive and unidentified. The more I know about the patient, about Charles, the better his treatment will be. We ask if any unconscious patient is a mutant. Mutants who wake unexpectedly from comas, or from unconsciousness have a high likelihood of losing control of their powers. We give them suppressants to protect them and to protect others.”

“Charles doesn’t use suppressants.” Erik replied firmly. “He wouldn’t want to use any now.”

“As soon as he is conscious again and can tell us that – we will stop administering them. Until then, it’s a safety precaution.”

Erik watched; hands clenched tightly as the doctor called over a nurse let her know they needed a suppressant.

“How strong is your friend’s mutation?”

“My boyfriend.” Erik mumbled, staring at Charles’ colourless face.

“How strong is your boyfriend’s mutation?” The doctor asked, clearly losing her patience.

“He’s omega level.” Erik replied.

He knew Charles might curse him up and down for it later, but Erik couldn’t risk giving the hospital false information and putting Charles’ health at risk. He would tell them anything and everything he possible could, as long as it meant Charles would open his eyes and look at him again.

Erik watched from the corner of his eye as the nurse arrived and injected the suppressant into Charles’ IV line. He reached out to squeeze Charles’ hand gently. _‘I’m sorry’_ he thought. 

“When will he wake up?” Erik asked.

“I couldn’t say.” The doctor replied. “Some people are waking up already, some people aren’t. Your boyfriend’s fever... is unique so far. Was he sick before this event occurred?”

“No.” Erik answered, still looking at Charles. “He didn’t have a fever before. He was having trouble with headaches, migraines, this last month. Nothing else.”

“We’re going to move him up to ICU, Mr. Lehnsherr. I don’t like how high his temperature is. We’ll have to monitor him closely.”

“I want to stay with him.” Erik said, glaring up at the doctor.

“Let us move him, okay? You were on campus too and I’d like to give you a quick check up.” Erik opened his mouth to protest, but the doctor continued on. “We have an expert on mutant medicine on staff. She’s been called in since so many students at Oxford are mutants and have been injured. If after my exam I say you’re fine, you can go sit with him. And hopefully by then Dr. Munroe will be in and you can talk to her too. Sound good?”

It did not sound good. Good was being beside a fully conscious, completely unharmed Charles. Acceptable was being beside an unconscious Charles talking to an expert on mutant medicine who made a blood pact with Erik that she would make Charles better. This, this separation was unacceptable. But Erik also knew he couldn’t risk pissing people off and not being allowed to see Charles again. So, he bit his tongue and didn’t make any of the cutting comments he wanted to.

Erik watched as a nurse came and grabbed Charles’ hospital bed. He ground his teeth together in mounting frustration as Charles was wheeled away.

“Let’s get this done.” He finally replied. “Whatever you need to do to clear me, let’s get it done.”

* * *

“We understand this is a unique set of circumstances and you haven’t had much time to look things over yet, but we have a lot of people asking a lot of questions. We’d like some answers – even preliminary ones.”

Dr. Ororo Munroe stared across the table at the detective chief inspector of the Oxford Mutant Division and let out a small sigh. His question wasn’t unexpected. The ‘event’ at Oxford university had happened a full three hours ago now – very recent indeed. But the chief inspector was right, everyone from the Mayor to the media to the families of students were asking for answers.

“I have a theory.” Dr. Munroe began. “I cannot confirm it just yet, but all the evidence I have so far points to this being a psionic event.”

“A psionic event?” The chief inspector raised a questioning brow.

“Psionics are mutants with abilities that relate to the mind – empaths, telepaths, psychics. Generally, psionics don’t harm others in any... physical way. As with many types of mutations, most psionics don’t have enough power to cause such a large-scale event. It is also worth noting that most psionics keep a very tight rein on their powers – they face a large amount of discrimination without society, both at large and even from other mutants. Today’s incident was very likely caused by a very powerful psionic who had what we call a ‘psionic overload’. This means they were stressed, pushed passed their limits in some way, and lost control of their power, sending it outwards and hurting themselves and others.”

“You think whoever did this, whoever hurt all these people, didn’t do it on purpose. And that they likely hurt themselves as well.”

“Yes, I do. I think it is very likely that the mutant who had the overload is here in the hospital and that they are very, very ill.”

“But you don’t know who it is.”

“I do not. We have, as of an hour ago, seen over two hundred patients due to this event. Over half of them have been admitted. And we aren’t the only hospital or clinic who has seen patients due to this event.”

“So, they might not be here – the culprit, I mean.”

Dr. Munroe took a deep breath. “That is a possibility. And I would remind you that the ‘culprit’ as you called them, is likely as innocent as any other victim. This was very likely not an attack, but rather a medical emergency for a very powerful mutant that unfortunately happened in a very public setting.”

The detective chief inspector stared at her for several moments and Dr. Munroe let the silence stretch, refusing to take back her comment.

“We’ll be in touch Dr. Munroe. If you identify the mutant responsible for this event, contact us immediately.” 

“Of course, chief inspector.” Dr. Munroe inclined her head slightly.

Leaning back in her chair, Dr. Munroe felt nothing but relief when the chief inspector and his lackey left her office. She reached for the stack of patient files on her desk. She only had a few minutes to review the files and determine who should take top priority.

Glancing at the top three files, Dr. Munroe laid them out on the desk in front of her.

“Well Hank McCoy, Charles Xavier, and Hannah George, let’s see who needs my attention most.”

* * *

Raven checked her phone for what had to be the tenth time that evening – still nothing from Charles.

This morning Charles had sent her a picture of an omelet Erik had made him, followed by a smiley face emoji and a string of hearts. Raven had been happy for him and then almost immediately horrified by the realization that Charles and Erik were likely having sex all over the flat. After sending several texts with clear instructions of how Charles should sanitize every surface in the flat and wash the sheets and cushions at least twice, she felt better. Until Charles had replied with nothing more than a series of winky faces. How everyone thought he was the mature one between the two of them she would never understand.

Since this morning however, she hadn’t received a single text, email, or call from Charles. Which was odd and concerning. Yesterday he’d texted her at least a dozen times and they had chatted briefly on the phone before Raven had gone to bed. At this point, Charles hadn’t texted her since eight in the morning, well over eight hours ago. He should have had time to least send her a text in response to the dozens of pictures she’d texted him during the day.

Raven was getting angry. And, when her anger abated from time to time, she was also feeling worried.

“Raven! Raven get out of the bathroom!” Kitty shouted from the other room. “We’re supposed to meet downstairs for supper! Mr. Pomeroy said he had some kind of announcement to make.”

“Just give me a second!” Raven hollered back.

Raven was just about to head out the door when her phone rang. She answered it before the first ring was even over.

“Charles?”

“Raven.” A deep voice replied. “It’s Erik.”

“Erik?” Raven squeaked out, her panic rising.

Raven could not think of one good reason why Erik would be calling her instead of Charles.

“Have you been watching the news?” Erik asked.

“The news?” Raven puzzled. “Why the fuck would I be watching the news?”

On the other end of the line, Raven heard Erik sigh.

“I want to talk to Charles. Now. Put him on the phone, Erik.” Raven demanded.

“I can’t.” Erik responded; his voice ragged. “He’s... there was... he’s unconscious.”

“Unconscious!” Raven yelled, already moving toward her things and throwing them back into her suitcase.

“Yes. There was... I don’t even know what to say it was, but something happened at Oxford. Hundreds of people were knocked out, Charles included. I’m in the hospital with him now.”

“The hospital? Charles is in the hospital?” Raven repeated dumbly.

“Can I talk to your teacher, Raven? You should come home.”

“Of course I’m coming home!” Raven exclaimed. “I... Mr. Pomeroy is meeting us downstairs for supper and an announcement. I have to go down there anyway.”

“Call me back after you talk to him, or when you’re talking to him if he needs to talk to me... fuck.” Erik grumbled. “Whatever the fuck we need to do to get you back to Oxford, we’ll do it.”

“Damn right we will.” Raven answered. “If I haven’t called you back in ten minutes, you call me. And if anything happens with Charles – anything – you call me.”

“He’s going to be fine.” Erik replied. “You’ll be here soon, and you’ll see – he’s going to be fine.”

After a quick exchange of goodbyes, Raven hung up. Charles was going to be fine. Erik had said it – twice. It had to be true, it had to be.

* * *

“He is my patient and I am asking you to leave.” Dr. Munroe repeated, standing up to her full height.

“I can’t do that ma’am.” The lieutenant answered. “I have orders to stay. We’re guarding all the omega level mutants at this hospital.”

“I understand that.” Dr. Munroe said, patience clearly running out. “And you may remain outside the door. I need to discuss his medical history – a confidential conversation between doctor and the patient’s family. I respect your role lieutenant and I am asking that you respect mine.”

Hank watched the police officer walk out the door. Even after he’d left, it was possible to see his outline through the window of the door to Charles’ room. They were, however, finally alone. Or at least unobserved by police presence.

In Charles’ room, surrounding his still unconscious form, Hank was joined by Raven, Dr. Munroe, and much to Hank’s surprise, Mr. Lehnsherr.

Hank had woken up last night, bleary and disoriented. It had taken him a couple of hours before he’d been able to answer questions coherently. It was late in the evening before Dr. Munroe had come to speak with him and it had quickly become apparent to both of them that Charles was likely the key to understanding the incident at Oxford. Unfortunately, Charles couldn’t tell them anything. At least not directly.

“I’ve brought us all together here today in the hopes that we, together, might be able to determine what happened to Charles.” Dr. Munroe began. “Dr. McCoy was very informative when we spoke last night, his understanding of mutants is impressive. He agrees with me that yesterday’s incident was a psionic event. And I am now able to tell you, Charles is the only patient we have who has not regained consciousness.”

“What are you implying?” Mr. Lehnsherr’s voice rang out, harsh and low, making Hank shiver slightly.

“I am saying that Charles was either at the epicentre of the event, or he _was_ the epicentre of the event. And I believe some of you already know that to be true.” Dr. Munroe concluded. “I understand that you want to protect your friend, but if I’m going to help him, I need to know as much as possible about Charles, his mutation and his history.”

“Charles would never hurt anyone on purpose.” Raven said, arms crossed over her chest. “You need to know that. He would never, ever do that.” 

“I believe you.” Dr. Munroe replied softly. “And I believe what your brother experienced was likely a psionic overload. What I need you all to explain to me is how a man whose medical chart indicates he is a low-level empath could have had a psionic event of this magnitude.”

Silence hung over the room. Hank shuffled his feet and looked at the floor, his whole face flushed and his heart racing.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Lehnsherr spoke first. “He’s not a low-level empath.”

“Erik!” Raven protested, stepping toward him shaking her head.

“He’s screwed either way, Raven.” Erik said looking directly at Raven. “We lie to the doctor and he might not ever wake up. Or we tell her the truth and he wakes up and we all pay the consequences.”

Hank watched Erik’s face, fascinated by the depth of emotion he found there.

“I want him to wake up Raven.” Erik continued; voice strained. “I need him to wake up.”

Raven nodded, eyes full of tears. “I want him to wake up too.”

“Then tell me the truth. As much of it as you know.” Dr. Munroe asked. “I only care about his medical needs, nothing else.”

Raven took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes, aggressively banishing any trace of tears.

“My brother is an omega level telepath.” She admitted. “He... he’s lived his life as if he was a low-level empath since... since he was a very young child. No one knew.” Raven looked quickly at Erik and Hank. “No one except the people in this room.”

“I’ve known him for almost three years. Yesterday, right before the... event, was the first time he ever used his powers on me.” Hank revealed. “He spoke to me in my mind. I didn’t even know he could do that.”

“Was he sick? Recently, had he been ill? Was he dealing with any unexpected stress?” Dr. Munroe prodded.

“He gets migraines.” Raven replied. “They’ve been bad this past month. He’s been stressed about... things.”

Raven glanced furtively over at Erik, but Mr. Lehnsherr wasn’t looking at her, he was staring at Charles’ face. Hank was suddenly confused – why was Raven waiting for Mr. Lehnsherr’s approval to talk about her own brother? Why was Mr. Lehnsherr even here? 

“Mr. Lehnsherr? Do you have anything to add? As Charles’ boyfriend perhaps he told you something he didn’t tell anyone else?” Dr. Munroe asked.

“You’re Charles’ boyfriend?” Hank blurted out, taking a quick step back and bumping into the wall when Mr. Lehnsherr turned and fixed him with a terrifying glare.

“Your relationship was a secret.” Dr. Munroe stated, easily connecting the dots in front of her.

“Yes.” Erik confirmed. “I’m his boss. He works for me on campus. We kept our relationship a secret. It wasn’t easy for either of us. And our work... we’d been working to bring forth a case against a well-respected faculty member for discrimination against mutants on campus. That faculty member tried to intimidate Charles. And Hank.” Erik paused; his eyes fixed on the door. “Like Raven said, Charles has been hiding his mutation for years. He had to work even harder this past month to hide because of his increased involvement with other mutants. He said it was harder to suppress his powers around them, that mutant minds naturally ‘pulled’ his telepathy out. He was shielding very strongly every day on campus.”

“He was shielding?” Dr. Munroe repeated, her voice high and surprised. “Mentally shielding, every day? He wasn’t using suppressants?”

“No.” Three voices rang out simultaneously.

“No.” Hank repeated. “Charles never took suppressants. He helped me with my research and even when I offered him my latest, most effective version of suppressants, he would never take them.”

“How long has he been shielding and not using suppressants?” Dr. Munroe asked, her pen scribbling notes frantically.

“He hasn’t used suppressants since he started university, about seven years ago.” Raven supplied.

“Seven...seven years?” Dr. Munroe stopped writing and stared at all of them.

“Charles’... family,” Erik spit out the word with pure hatred in his voice, “forced him to take suppressants. He hated it. Hated how they made him feel. He said it felt like going blind, like losing one of his senses. He never wanted to feel that way again.”

“I can understand he had an aversion to suppressants,” Dr. Munroe said hesitantly, “but to shield and shield heavily for seven years...” She took a deep breath. “Omega level mutants aren’t common. I happen to be one myself so I understand more than you might think, but I have never met an omega level telepath. In my experience, with low level telepaths, many of them shield, but never continuously. They always have a place, or a person, or both that is safe. Somewhere they can let go. If they don’t have that – if they move to a new location and are afraid to use their powers for a while, they use suppressants to help. Extended shielding is very difficult: its physically and mentally draining. It isn’t something you do all day every day. It isn’t sustainable.”

“Charles has been on suppressants or shielding since he was seven years old.” Erik muttered, his eyes locked on Charles’ face and, Hank was startled to see, his hand gently holding one of Charles’ own. “He hasn’t let go of his powers for fifteen years. He hasn’t felt safe for fifteen years.”

“Oh.” Raven gasped, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes swelling with tears once again. “Oh, Charles.”

“If what you’re telling me is true – and I have no reason to doubt that it is – then I would say we are all very lucky. Given Charles’ omega level status, yesterday’s event could have been much worse. Given his long term suppression, I can’t help but think it should have been much worse. Yesterday was Charles’ power refusing to be held back, breaking free of its cage and pulsing outward like it hasn’t done in years. The fact that he’s here, alive... I’m honestly stunned.”

“But he is alive.” Erik countered fiercely. “And he’s going to wake up. Isn’t he, Dr. Munroe? We gave you all the information we have.” Erik stood to his full height, eyes blazing. “Now you make him better.”

“It’s not that simple -”

“It is that simple.” Erik declared. “I know Charles. If what you said is true, if yesterday should have been worse, then the reason it wasn’t worse is because of Charles. Because he did whatever he could to protect everyone else. That is who Charles is, someone who’s always putting others before himself. This time, this time Charles comes first.”

“I will do everything within my power to help him recover, Mr. Lehnsherr, but I won’t make a promise I don’t know if I can keep. If Charles is as strong and determined and stubborn as you say he is, well then, I like our chances.”

Hank had to admire Dr. Munroe and her calm strength in the face of Mr. Lehnsherr’s wrath. Hank still found Mr. Lehnsherr mostly terrifying, though over the last month he had come to appreciate his dedication to mutants and mutant rights. He still found it hard to reconcile the man in front of him now, nostrils flared, fists clenched, gaze murderous, with the man who had ever so gently cradled Charles’ limp hand with his own just minutes prior. He found it hard to imagine Mr. Lehnsherr having any soft, romantic feelings for anyone at all.

But as Dr. Munroe nodded and left the room, Hank watched as Mr. Lehnsherr sank back down into the chair beside Charles’ bed and took Charles’ hand into his own once more. Raven stepped closer and delicately put a hand on his shoulder. To Hank’s complete and utter shock, Mr. Lehnsherr folded himself over, forehead resting on Charles’ chest, his shoulders shaking with emotion.

“It’s going to be okay, Erik.” Raven said softly. “He’s going to come back to us.” She raised her hand and stroked Erik’s hair. “He’s going to come back.”

* * *

Getting Erik to leave Charles’ side had taken every bit of cunning and persuasion Raven could muster. Finally, after arriving in the wee hours of the night, Raven was alone with Charles. Erik would likely be back from a food run to the cafeteria in half and hour at most, but the relief of having time without Erik’s intensity was massive.

Raven knew Erik wanted the same thing she did – for Charles to make a full recovery. The weight, the shear gloomy weight of Erik’s presence in the room was almost unbearable after all these hours. Raven was not a natural optimist and being stuck in a room with the human equivalent of a dark storm cloud was killing any chance she had to stay positive.

It didn’t help that Charles’ condition had barely changed over the last twelve hours. His temperature continued to spike randomly – so much so that Dr. Munroe and the nursing staff had literally immersed him in an ice bath twice to cool him down. 

In addition to the temperature spikes, Charles’ body would also contort and shake with what Dr. Munroe called ‘residual psionic overload seizures’ at least once an hour. Sometimes they were short, only a few seconds, but other times they seemed endless. By the time nursing staff came in and gave Charles yet another injection, Raven could feel her heart practically pounding out of her chest with anxiety. Seeing Charles’ pale, thin body finally lying still on the white hospital sheets was both a relief and disheartening. How could Charles possibly recovery when he looked so small and weak? How could he come back to himself when he was pumped full of drugs and suppressants?

Raven squeezed Charles’ lifeless hand and did her best to try and think how Charles would. Charles would be focused on any hint of progress. Charles would be able to take every negative and somehow twist it into a positive, or at the very least something neutral.

Raven was sitting, eyes closed trying to convince herself that ‘no improvement’ was a positive (she could almost hear Charles’ voice saying _‘Everything is staying constant – this is excellent!_ ), when she heard the door open. Lifting her eyes, she was surprised to see Charles’ ‘guard’ accompanied by another police officer entering the room.

“Thought you were too scared to stay in here with the ‘freak’?” Raven sat back, giving the young guard a scathing look.

The older police officer gave the guard a hard look and Raven smiled as he flushed bright red. It was a petty victory, but she’d take it. There wasn’t much to feel celebratory about these days. Taking an anti-mutant asshole who’d called Charles seizures ‘unnatural’ and his mutation ‘freaky’ down a peg was about as good as it got at the moment.

“Miss Xavier, my name is Reginald Hawkins, I’m the detective chief inspector of the Oxford Mutant Division. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Would you now?” Raven sat back; arms crossed firmly over her chest. 

“Your brother is in serious trouble, Miss Xavier. We’d like to try to clear things up and help him if we can.”

Raven could almost feel the steam pouring out of her ears. What complete and total bullshit. Did this guy think she’d been born yesterday? For a second she wished Erik was still in the room because he would have eviscerated this idiot by now, possibly literally.

“You want to help my brother?” She asked instead, doing her best to sound innocent and scared. “Really?”

“Really, Miss. Xavier, we do.” 

The detective chief inspector sat down in the empty chair beside her, while the young officer stood guard by the door.

“How long have you and your brother been in England?” He asked, flipping open a notebook.

“Oh, a while. I’m not good with dates.” Raven replied, wide eyed.

“Ok, let’s try something simple then. What is your address?”

Raven was just about to tell the detective to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine when Erik walked in.

“Questioning a minor without an adult present?” Erik arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware that was legal detective.”

“This isn’t... I am not questioning this young lady.” The detective chief inspector bristled. “I am merely trying to verify some basic information.”

“I’m just so overwhelmed right now.” Raven sighed dramatically. “I just can’t seem to remember anything you’re asking me!”

“Your brother is suspected of falsifying official documents. That is very serious business and we will get to the bottom of it – with or without your cooperation. You and your brother could be deported if these accusations are found to be true.”

“That sounds like a threat.” Erik commented, his voice low. “You wouldn’t be threatening a teenage girl, would you detective inspector?”

“I am merely stating the facts.”

“Raven, would you like this man to leave?” Erik asked, his eyes never veering away from the detective.

“I would.” Raven said. “I would like him to leave us the fuck alone.”

“You heard her. Leave.” Erik said, his voice cold and hard.

Detective chief inspector Hawkins gave a sharp nod and headed to the door. “We will be back. Mr. Xavier will have to answer our questions eventually.” He said and then he was out the door and gone.

“Can they do that? Deport Charles? Deport both of us?” Raven asked, turning to Erik, filled with dread.

“It’s what Charles was afraid of.” Erik answered. “But that doesn’t mean it will happen. I happen to have a few contacts – good lawyers.” Erik frowned unhappily. “I can get some help for you and Charles.”

“These are people you trust?” Raven asked.

“Yes.” Erik responded immediately.

“Then call them up. I think we’re going to need the big guns for this one.”

* * *

Erik gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He was almost back to the hospital, almost back to Charles. Maybe then, maybe when he was touching Charles again some of the knots coiled in his belly would ease off.

It had taken him almost an hour to convince Raven to go home to sleep in her own bed for the night. She’s reluctantly agreed after the ridiculous ‘shouting whisper’ fight they’d had in the corner of Charles’ room. As if their voices might be too loud and wake him up.

Raven had only agreed to go home when Hank had offered to go with her and sleep on the couch. She’d also made Erik promise he’d go to his flat to sleep too, which Erik had said he would do after he dropped Raven and Hank off and escorted them up the narrow staircase to Charles and Raven’s flat.

He’d lied of course. Erik never had any intention of leaving Charles at all, but he figured a short trip away from the hospital was worth it to get Raven a good night’s sleep. He’d even given Hank a short but thoroughly effective speech about how he’d better keep his hands off Raven or Erik would crush him inside a car. Hank had stammered and gone pale, while Raven had called him an asshole. Erik considered it a job well done.

Erik was lucky enough to be the lone occupant of the elevator up to Charles’ floor. He unashamedly hurried it along with his powers. He’d been away from Charles’ side for almost an hour; the faster he got back to him the better.

Erik swiftly passed by the guard outside of Charles’ room, he was by him with the door locked before the young officer could so much as get words of protest out of his mouth. If there was any doubt in Erik’s mind that the ‘guards’ had any real interest in protecting Charles, the guard’s complete inaction as he swept into the room proved him right.

Inside the too white hospital room Charles was alone. A small, motionless body on a bed.

Erik let out a shuddering breath and sat down in the chair by Charles’ shoulder. He gripped Charles’ hand lightly in his own, running his fingers along his knuckles and then down to his wrist. If Charles had been awake, if he’d been conscious, he would have giggled and pulled away – Erik used to revel in finding all of Charles’ ticklish spots and he had more than a few of them. Charles didn’t move, or giggle today of course. 

His stillness was breaking Erik apart inside, piece by little piece.

Erik laid his head down on the bed, positioning himself in an oddly twisted manner to get his face as close to Charles’ ear as possible.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, the doctor says no one knows.” Erik began, closing his eyes at the sound of his own shaky voice. “I believe you can. I know you’re in there. I know it, Charles.”

Erik reached out, his eyes half open, and let his hand sink into Charles’ soft hair.

“I going to be here Charles, right beside you, until you wake up. You... fuck... please wake up Charles.” Erik pleaded gruffly. “I can’t... I don’t want to do this without you. I want you by my side – I need you here with me. You make sure I see the sun behind the clouds Charles, you keep me from only seeing the worst-case scenario, you make me want to be a better man.”

Erik was glad there was no one in the room to see the tears running down his cheeks. Charles could see, Erik wanted Charles to see, but no one else.

“I made a ring to go with that bracelet you know.” Erik whispered, giving Charles’ hand a squeeze. “One day, I’m going to give it to you, and I will spend the rest of my life showing you how wonderful you are.”

Erik pushed his forehead into the plasticized hospital mattress, his eyes shut tight. He spent the rest of the evening projecting one thought to Charles, _‘I love you’_ , over and over, hoping he might hear Charles reply back in his mind. 

Silence reigned. 

Eventually, sheer exhaustion hit, and Erik slept, hand grasping Charles’ own and his nose buried in Charles’ hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reading, commenting and leaving kudos! I appreciate every single one of you!
> 
> Feel free to check out my profile and find me on tumblr and come chat cherik with me, or this fic specifically, whenever you please :)
> 
> We are almost done. I anticipate 2 more chapters. Thank you for sticking with me.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles wakes up.

****

**Chapter 22**

His body felt like a brick sinking into the depths of a frozen lake: cold, heavy, and helpless. A slow fall to oblivion with no escape. A surrounding chill and emptiness that swallowed him whole.

Fuzzy voices hovered at the edge of his consciousness. “He’s waking up. Mr. Xavier? Mr. Xavier?”

So cold. So alone. Charles reached out for the minds around him, but all he could feel were blurry forms – nothing real, nothing concrete.

“He’s fighting Dr. Munroe. I can feel him...”

The muffled voice sounded afraid, but it did not feel real. It had no substance, no soul. The mind behind the voice remained obscured. He must be dreaming.

He pushed again, straining to feel, to grasp onto the something solid with his telepathy.

“Into the line, now! We need to knock him out now, before it gets worse.”

“He shouldn’t be able to do this, right doctor? How is he even -”

“It doesn’t matter, we need to get him back under and suppressed. Inject him now!”

Charles could almost see a brightness, a light. He could almost smell an unwelcome sterility tickling his nostrils. He could almost feel rough fabric beneath his fingers. He almost felt real.

Then it ended and he sunk into the deep black nothingness once more.

* * *

“What do you mean you put him back into a coma?” Erik growled fiercely.

“If he woke up, doesn’t that mean he’s better?” Raven asked, clutching Charles’ hand with hers.

“Yes and no, Miss Xavier.” Dr. Munroe replied calmly. “Your brother woke up, so to speak, very briefly. He was not fully conscious, but he was aware. And his mutation is so powerful and innate that despite the high level of suppressants in his system he was reaching out with his telepathy.”

“He wasn’t in control.” Erik guessed.

“No, he wasn’t.” Dr. Munroe agreed. “And he couldn’t have been – he wasn’t even fully conscious. We had to sedate him and increase his dose of suppressants, for his safety and ours.”

“He’ll wake up again.” Erik said, almost like a command.

“I don’t see any reason he won’t Mr. Lehnsherr. We just have to give him time.”

Raven leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. If Charles had woken up once, he could and would wake up again. She didn’t know anyone who was more stubborn or determined (maybe Erik… maybe), and if Charles’ mind had healed enough for him to regain semi-consciousness once, then he was well on his way to recovering.

“So, we’re still playing the waiting game.” Raven sighed.

She was so sick of waiting. She was done with sitting in a room with a guard at the door, as if Charles was some kind of risk, as if he was a dangerous criminal, when really, he was barely recovering from being attacked by his own mutation. 

Raven was tired of detective chief inspector Hawkins poking his head in the room a couple times a day and trying to get her to answer questions, as if her non-answers at five o’clock would somehow be different then her refusals at nine in the morning.

She was tired of spending so many hours trapped in a room with Erik, who was simply not good company. Though Raven did have to admit he was much better company now in a crisis, than he usually was. He was still a dick though and she really just wanted Charles to wake up so she could tell him how ridiculous his boyfriend was.

Raven was about to open her mouth and just tell Erik how impossible he was herself – she couldn’t keep it inside a minute longer – when the machines beside Charles’ bed started to beep.

* * *

Charles knew he shouldn’t just be lying there, listening, but there was something about the voices that was calming. He desperately needed a calming influence.

He had regained consciousness a few minutes ago. Or, he thought he had. Except nothing felt right. Nothing felt real.

His telepathy was gone. Not shielded – gone.

That feeling, the blankness, the utter isolation of it, brought back so many crushing memories. Cold tables and straps. Injections and night sweats. Hallucinations and manipulation. So many years of fighting for control over his own body, his own mind. So many years at Kurt’s mercy, unable to escape.

And here he was again. Alone. Helpless.

Despite his best efforts, his desperate search for calm and serenity, Charles felt his breathing become shallow and his pulse begin to race. A loud and persistent beeping began to his right and Charles clenched his fists and sucked in a ragged breath as he hesitantly opened his eyes.

Everything was white. And bright. Too bright.

He closed his eyes again.

The voices around him were no longer calm. Raven’s voice was too high. Erik’s was strained. The strangers – doctors and nurses no doubt – were all business, reading out the data his monitors were spitting out at them and giving orders. One of them, whoever was in charge no doubt, was calling his name.

“Mr. Xavier? Charles? Can you hear me?”

Charles kept his eyes closed. _‘Just a moment’_ he thought, _‘I just need a moment’._

“Charles, if you can hear me, please let me know. In any way you can. We need to know if you’re okay.” The voice spoke again.

So reasonable. It grated though, this person, this doctor, asking if he could hear her, wanting to know if he was alright when they must know he was anything but. They had to know he was pumped so full of suppressants that he couldn’t feel like himself even if he tried. 

“I want...” His voice scratched and he winced at both the hoarse sound and the pain in his throat. “I want to be taken off suppressants. Now.” He ordered.

“If you could just open your eyes Charles...” The voice replied.

“Too bright.” Charles explained.

The light in the room dimmed immediately.

“Thank you, Erik.” Charles whispered.

“Mr. Lehnsherr I’m not sure you should be using your powers...” The voice stopped and Charles could only imagine the look Erik was giving the doctor in that moment. It almost made him smile. “Mr. Xavier, are you able to use your telepathy right now?”

“No.” Charles opened his eyes as slowly as he could and let out a grateful sigh at the lack of blinding light. “I hardly need my telepathy to know that Erik will help me if he can. You needn’t be concerned doctor; my telepathy is nowhere to be found at the moment.”

Charles turned his head to take in the room: Raven to his left, the doctor – a beautiful woman with a shock a white hair – to his right, Erik standing tall at the foot of the bed, a nurse hovering near the doctor looking slightly terrified.

“I would like to check some basic functions – listen to your heart, lungs, check your pupil response. Is that acceptable Mr. Xavier?”

“I would like a drink of water first. And your name doctor, if you would be so kind.” Charles replied, already feeling drained.

Erik was beside him with a cup and a straw within moments, and Charles leaned forward with a grunt, taking several long sips.

“My name is Dr. Munroe, Mr. Xavier, I am a Mutant Medicine Specialist. I have been in charge of your care since you arrived three days ago.”

Three days. He had been unconscious three days. It was both surprising, and not – he had never in his life experienced anything like he had on Monday. The explosion of his power had been so expansive, so impossible. Even here, lying in a hospital bed due to impact of his loss of control it didn’t quite feel real.

Charles stayed still as Dr. Munroe listened to his heart, checked his pulse and shined a light in his eyes. The insistent testing allowed Charles time to think, and he certainly had a lot to think about.

Despite having been unconscious, or in some sort of unresponsive state, Charles could remember everything that had been said in his hospital room. He could remember the good; Erik’s emotional confessions and his deep unquenching desire for Charles to wake up, and he could remember the bad; the confrontation between Raven and the police and the threats to have them deported. It was a lot of information and it simmered and stewed inside of him.

For so many years he’d dreaded this moment – the revelation of his mutation. There had been a time when he’d first left Westchester where he’d considered telling the truth, leaving the lie – his father’s lie – behind him. But he could he still remember the government agents and their days of testing. He could still remember their thoughts, how determined they were to find threats to national security. How sure they’d been that powerful psionics were either tools to be used, or dangerous. There was no middle ground in the eyes of the American Government: psionics were either weapons they could use, or weapons to be used against them. 

As much as Charles believed there was good in each and every person, he also knew that organizations, governments, groups, were easily led astray and corrupted. The risk had been too great; he had kept his secret.

Now, he had no more mysteries for others to unfold. All his sins were laid bare: his mutation, his relationship with Erik, his poverty, and his loss of control. Now he had to pick up the pieces of the mess he’d made of his life. Now he had to figure out how to move forward when everything he had worked so hard for was collapsing around him.

“Your vital signs are better, Mr. Xavier.” Dr. Munroe stated. “Your temperature remains a bit higher than I would like – we’ll have to monitor that. For now, I recommend rest and lots of fluids.”

Charles nodded vaguely and kept his eyes on the door.

“Is that gentleman going to be joining us?” He asked.

“Mr. Xavier -” Dr. Munroe began gently.

At the same time Erik loudly and emphatically replied “No.”

Charles gave Erik a soft smile, but turned his focus back to the doctor.

“You can call me Charles, Dr. Munroe.” He invited. “I would very much like to know why there is a man standing outside my room.”

“He is a guard provided by the local police. Now that you’re awake I will have to inform them that you are conscious and available for questioning regarding Monday’s… event. They will want to talk to you as soon as possible.” Dr. Munroe voice was measured, though her face held a look of concern.

“Before the suppressants wear off.” Charles supplied.

“Yes.”

“And if they should wear off before the police arrive to question me, will you be required to give me another dose?” Charles inquired mildly.

“Like hell she will.” Erik grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Dr. Munroe with a pointed look.

“It’s departmental policy for all omega level mutants -”

“I know the local policy.” Erik interjected. “It is a violation of mutant autonomy. Charles is capable of making is own medical decisions and the police department cannot force him to take a medication he has declined.”

“I would like to avoid taking any more suppressants.” Charles said firmly. “If you could inform the guard I am ready for questioning, I would be most grateful.”

“You don’t have to do this Charles.” Raven whispered frantically. “You should wait until you’re feeling better.”

“I can do this now, Raven, thank you.” Charles replied tone clipped.

He knew he sounded like a right bastard; arrogant, proper and detached. Exactly the kind of aristocratic snob his mother had always wanted him to be and he had spent years rebelling against. But he had to do this. He had to get this over and done with. He had to know where he stood with the authorities.

“I’ll let him know, Charles.” Dr. Munroe agreed. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone with your family.”

Charles watched as Dr. Munroe left the room and then turned to look at Raven and Erik and waited for the angry lecture he was sure he was about to receive.

* * *

“You can’t be serious about this Charles!” Raven hissed. “Its just stupid! You should tell those idiots to wait. You’ve barely been awake five minutes and you want to let them in here to grill you? Like you’re some criminal? Because that’s what they think, you know that right? They think you caused all the chaos at Oxford and they want to lay all the blame at your feet.”

“I am responsible for what happened at Oxford.” Charles replied calmly.

“You are a stubborn ass, is what you are. It was an accident!” Raven muttered, shaking her head. “Would you please talk some sense into him?” Raven asked, waving her hands between Charles and Erik.

“Charles is right.” Erik said.

Raven turned to him, eyes wide, stunned expression on her face. “Excuse me? He’s what now?”

“He’s right.” Erik repeated. “He doesn’t want to take suppressants again, so talking to the police as soon as possible is the most logical course of action.”

“He needs to rest and recover!” Raven protested. “Look at him! He looks like he has the bird flu or some tropical virus!”

“Thank you for that, dear sister.” Charles rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t seen yourself – I have.” Raven squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin defiantly. “You look like shit.”

Charles took a deep calming breath. Clearly, convincing Raven was going to take some work. Without his telepathy, Charles always struggled to read other people, and Raven was particularly difficult for him. Her moods could be so mercurial and without the infrequent snatches of her emotions and surface thoughts, Charles felt lost at sea, miles away from his sister.

“Raven,” Charles said hesitantly, “I know… no I don’t know, but I can only imagine these past few days have been…”

“Have been what, Charles?” Raven asked.

“It must have been incredibly stressful.” Charles finished softly, knowing his words were inadequate.

“Yeah, Charles, it was stressful.” Raven bit back sarcastically.

“I’m sorry for everything, Raven. Sorry for putting you through all of this. But I’m asking you to let me choose. Please, Raven, let me decide when I’m ready and what I’m capable of.”

“And you think you’re ready?” Raven cocked her head to one side.

“I think there’s no reason to wait and several good reasons not to.” Charles answered, hoping his honesty would ring true. “It’s best to get it over with.”

Charles let Raven stare him down. He tried his best to read her expression and was almost certain she was doing her best to contain a tidal wave of frustration, all mixed with sisterly protective love. He couldn’t be sure, however, and it ate at him, the uncertainty of it all. 

Three days. In three days he had somehow lost all control over his life. All the hard-won stability and independence; gone. Raven must have felt it too, the shaking of the ground beneath their feet. She was still clinging to the hope they could find their way back to solid ground. Charles knew better – there was no going back.

* * *

“All we want, Mr. Xavier, is the truth.”

Detective Chief Inspector Hawkins stood beside Charles’ bed, notebook in hand, his associate standing by the door. Even without his telepathy Charles could read this man relatively well. Standing to show dominance and authority. Gripping his notebook with white knuckles and glancing often to the man standing at the door, showing his true feelings – fear and doubt.

“Of course, detective.” Charles replied. “I’ll answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

And he did. He answered seemingly endless questions about himself; his mutation, how he had hidden his mutation, how he had evaded detection for so long and traveled to England for his studies, how he had lost control of his power, whether he understood the impact of his choices. It was clear the detective felt he had been hiding himself for some nefarious purpose and Charles did his best to both be honest (he’d really never had any plot in mind when keeping his telepathy secret, he’d simply been trying to protect himself) and also protect Erik and Raven from any blame (all his choices had been his and his alone).

It was exhausting. Raven had been right; he wasn’t truly ready for this. Even sitting, propped upright by the hospital bed, doing nothing more than speaking to the detective took every bit of his energy. He kept leaning forward and taking sips from a juice box, hoping the sugar would fuel him for as long as the detective insisted on asking questions.

As the detective began asking him questions about Monday, once again asking Charles to go over the events of the morning before the ‘event’ (something they had already done twice), Charles felt a soft hum in the back of his mind and a warm waft of emotion sinking into his bones.

His telepathy was back.

It was sluggish and slow at first. Emotions spiked at random and then faded away just as quickly, like trying to find a radio station except it kept cutting in and out. Still, Charles couldn’t help but close his eyes and savour the familiar feeling. It was as if the world was finally back in colour after seeing it in only black and white for hours.

“Mr. Xavier? Mr. Xavier?” The detective’s voice intruded loudly. “Are you still with us?”

“Yes, sorry.” Charles opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. “My apologies, detective. I believe I’m feeling a bit fatigued.” He gave the detective his best tired but sincere smile. “Did you have any more questions, detective? Or are we done?”

Detective Hawkins frowned severely at him and Charles could feel his mind whirling and wondering if Charles was lying, or putting on some kind of act to avoid questioning. Charles managed to suppress a sigh of frustration.

“I would of course be happy to answer any more questions you may have another time. Perhaps after I have some time to rest.” Charles added.

Detective Hawkins scowled, and reluctantly shut his notebook and tucked it into his breast pocket.

The detective extended his hand to Charles. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Xavier. We’ll be seeing you again.”

Charles clasped the detective’s hand and was immediately flooded with clear images: a containment team, a prison cell, he and Raven laid side by side, strapped securely to a table, unable to move as men in lab coats walked around them. The future detective Hawkins planned for him.

Charles couldn’t stop the way his body shook and shivered in response to the detective’s thoughts.

“Are you alright, Mr. Xavier?”

“Yes.” Charles insisted, drawing his hand back from the detective’s and letting it rest at his side. “I’ve been having some difficulty with tremors since I woke up. The doctor said I had quite a few seizures while I was unconscious. Perhaps these are some sort of side effect.” Charles commented.

_Weak. Helpless. Have to move fast. He could be dangerous later._ Detective Hawkins thoughts pierced Charles’ mind, loud and clear as a bell.

“We’ll let you rest, then Mr. Xavier.” Detective Hawkins retreated to the door and left with nothing more than a nod of his head. The guard followed him out, though Charles could feel the younger man’s mind positioned outside his door – still under guard.

Charles lay alone, in silence, his thoughts swirling. There were so few options left to him and so little time. Tears crept into the corners of his eyes and tracked slowly down his cheeks, little streams of hopeless defeat.

What did you do when none of the choices in front of you were good ones? What was the best option out of a series of horrible outcomes? And could he make the choice? Could he go through with it?

Charles knew he likely had only minutes to himself before Raven and Erik returned. He spent the time he had focusing on his plan and his breathing. In and out, slow and steady.

He only had one chance at this. One terrible choice and one terrible chance. He had to make it work. He had to, or the possibility presented to him by Detective Hawkins, the possibility of detainment and torture, for both himself and Raven, would be reality.

* * *

Charles let himself sink his fingers into Erik’s arm and lean on his perfectly sculpted body for support as they made their way to the bathroom, slowly, step by step. Up so close, Charles could see the lines of strain on Erik’s face, he felt the tension in his body, he could smell the sweat on Erik’s skin.

Erik helped him sit down on the edge of the bathtub and Charles let his head hang, pulling in a few deep breaths before looking back up at Erik.

“You haven’t been home since Monday, have you?”

Erik gave him a long, measured look. “No.” He answered simply. “Do I look so bad?”

“Hmm.” Charles tilted his head, letting his gaze drift down Erik’s body. “You smell.” He replied, his lips twitching.

“I smell?” Erik repeated leaning back against the sink.

“If my sister weren’t a wall away, I’d suggest we have a shower together.” Charles smiled.

Erik frowned and looked at the floor. “I could hardly take advantage of you in this state, Charles.”

“Erik…” Charles stood slowly, and closed the distance between himself and Erik, slipping his arms around the taller man and tucking his head under his chin. “I’m right here. And I’m fine now.”

“You’re not fine.” Erik shuddered, into Charles ear, his arms wrapping around him tightly.

“I will be.” Charles said, burrowing into Erik’s chest and refusing to let the tears fall. 

_‘I’m going to make everything better.’_ He thought to himself, tracing his palms over Erik’s back. _‘I will make it better; I will make it safe. For you and for Raven.’_

“Thank you for being here for me.” Charles whispered, pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’ll never forget this.”

Charles felt Erik’s hand gently pull his face up until Charles was staring up into Erik’s steely blue-grey eyes.

“Where else would I be?” Erik murmured, his thumb tracing the line of Charles’ bottom lip. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Charles welcomed Erik’s kiss and felt his heart break at the gentleness there. Erik held his head between his hands as if Charles might shatter from the lightest touch, and wanting to show Erik how wrong he was, Charles pushed up on his toes, leaning up into the kiss and pulling Erik’s tongue deeper into his mouth. Erik moaned in reply and tangled one of his hands into Charles hair. Charles took his time, exploring Erik’s mouth, tracing the line of his lips, caressing his tongue, memorizing the feel of Erik’s face under his fingers.

One last time.

Could he make this kiss last a lifetime? Could it sustain him?

Lost in the haze of his own thoughts and his determination to draw out the moment as long as possible, Charles didn’t feel the damp trails of his own tears until Erik pulled back and swiped at his cheeks, a troubled look on his face.

“What’s wrong, liebling? Why are you crying?” He asked softly.

“I’m just…” Charles started only to stop as a swell of emotion threatened to overwhelm him. “I’m just so happy you’re here. And I’m exhausted. And I want my telepathy back. I hate feeling like this.”

Half lies, half-truth. Charles gave Erik what pieces he could and tucked the rest away for himself.

“You’ll feel better soon. Dr. Munroe said the suppressants might wear off by tonight. I should leave you to get cleaned up...” Erik hesitated. “Are you going to be alright by yourself? You’re not feeling faint?”

“I should be fine.” Charles did his best to smile. “You should go have a shower too.” He urged. “Go home, shower, get some rest – in your own bed. I’ll be here in the morning.”

Charles’ eyes fluttered closed as Erik stroked his cheek and he leaned his head into Erik’s palm.

“I’ll be here first thing in the morning.” Erik said firmly, reluctantly pulling his hand away. “I’m going to call Magda and we’ll get you an excellent lawyer and figure everything out. You hear me, Charles? We’ll figure everything out.”

“I hear you.”

“Good.” 

Erik stepped to the door and Charles couldn’t help himself.

“I love you.” He said again; one last time.

“I love you too, libeling.” 

Charles watched the soft smile cross Erik’s face and he held it in his mind. He held it there long after Erik left the room and closed the door behind him. He held it as he showered and changed into his own clothes. He tucked that image into a corner of his mind and he locked it up, never to be forgotten, always there to be found when he needed it.

He looked at himself through the steam of the foggy bathroom mirror and took a series of deep breath.

_‘It’s time to clean up your mess, Charles. You ruined it, now you have to fix it.’_

*  
Charles stepped out of the bathroom, shoulders back, head held high. Raven was sitting in the chair on the far side of the bed, head bend over her phone. She looked so young and yet not, nothing at all like the girl he’d taken with him when he left Westchester.

“You trust me, right Raven?” Charles said, repeated his words from so many years ago.

“Charles?” Raven looked at him, wide eyed and quizzical. 

“You trust me?” Charles repeated.

“Of course I do.” Raven answered, phone forgotten, her forehead creased with worry.

“We have to go.” Charles said. “Now.”

“Charles… this isn’t… we don’t have to...” Raven stuttered.

“We do.” Charles insisted. “Please, Raven. Trust me one more time. We need to go. I’m going to need your help – I’m too weak to do this without you.”

Charles watched the play of emotions crossed Raven’s face and he felt her doubts warring with her love for him. He knew he was asking a very great deal of her. He was asking her to take a leap with her eyes closed, just as he had when she was a girl.

“What do you need me to do?” Raven asked, voice confident, decision made.

Charles felt a knot release in his chest. They were in this together.

*

Raven sat in the back of the cab, furtively glancing over at her brother every few seconds. Charles was motionless, fingers at his temple, eyes closed, focus complete.

They’d been driving a circuitous route around Oxford for an hour. They’d passed the police station, the university campus, they’d taken a slow drive through student housing, and stopped for ten minutes outside her school. Raven knew, she just knew what was happening, what Charles was doing. Not that he had told her explicitly, but she knew. Every place had a purpose, every stop a person changed forever.

Raven’s guts twisted and her palms were sweaty. She’d been on edge ever since she’d walked out of the hospital with Charles, not a single person even glancing their way. She’d stood still beside him, waiting for the cab to arrive, though Charles had been a million miles away – fingers pressed to his temple, breathing even.

He wasn’t breathing evenly anymore: sweat beaded on his forehead and he took shuddering gulps of air. He was pale and shaking, but he didn’t stop.

They pulled up in front of a line of houses and Raven gasped.

“Charles...” She whispered.

There was no response.

Raven looked at Charles, at the strain on his face and the tremor in his hands, and she wondered why she’d ever doubted he loved her, that he would put her safety above everything. She regretted it now; all the harsh words, the petty insults, the time she’d taken away from Charles – time he could have spent in other ways, with another person, if only she’d not been so selfish.

Eventually, so many minutes after Raven thought Charles couldn’t possibly last a moment longer, he slouched back in his seat, his hand dropping limp at his side.

“Heathrow, please.” Raven instructed the driver, who was currently shaking his head as if to clear it.

The drive to the airport was silent. Raven watched Charles sleepy head lolling against the window, mouth half open.

When they stopped, Charles’ eyes popped open immediately; alert and focused.

Raven made her way through the bustling airport with Charles in a daze. There was a ticket booth and security, but things went quickly when you had no baggage other than a purse and a book bag.

Later, Raven stared out the small cabin window of the plane, looking out at the tarmac and trying to convince herself she could still see the soft rolls of England’s green hills.

“They won’t even know we were there, will they?” Raven asked softly.

“No.” Charles replied tightly.

“We’re never going back.”

“No.” 

“We have to move forward.” Charles said several moments later, placing his hand over hers. “We have to forget all of this, like they’ve forgotten us, like it never happened.”

“How do we do that?” Raven asked, more scared and panicked than she would ever admit, holding tightly to Charles’ hand. “How can you do that?” Raven continued, thinking of Charles’ studies, thinking of Erik.

“I don’t know.” Charles replied and when he turned to face her, Raven saw the tears spilling over his cheeks. “I only know we have to try. We’ll go home and try.”

“Just you and me, again.” Raven whispered, staring down at their linked fingers.

“Just you and me.” Charles nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you have have stuck with this story this long.
> 
> I understand this chapter might have come as a bit of a shock (though I hope not completely). I would like to reassure you that this fic does NOT end on a sad note. It is not a perfect end: not all the the conflict is resolved, not everything is perfect and right and easy. But, there is hope.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. All comments and kudos are treasured like the jewels they are.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Chapter.

****

**Chapter 23**

Erik woke up to the persistent beeping of his alarm and groggily rolled over to shut it off. He was tired, more tired than he should be. He felt like he could sleep for another eight hours, though he knew he shouldn’t.

With gritted teeth and a stubborn attitude, he pushed himself up and grabbed his phone. A brief glance at the headlines showed the ‘event’ at Oxford was still the top news story. Four days ago now, four days since he’d watched students hit the lawn outside his office. A shiver traveled down Erik’s spine and he stood quickly to shake it off.

Getting dressed for his morning run was automatic; t-shirt, sweatpants, zip up jacket, shoes. Heading for the door Erik reached for his keys and paused, staring down at his hand dumbly - a sudden impulse to get in his car and drive to the hospital was so strong. Erik stared at his hand for a few moments longer, eyes blinking, mind confused, before he placed his car keys back on the counter slowly and headed out the door for his run.

* * *

It kept happening. Those moments when Erik would do something, something inexplicable, as if some part of his mind was working on its own accord without him knowing what was happening.

His morning running route had changed. He tried to run his usual route, he really did, but at some point, when he’d sunk into that runner’s high, focus only on the feel of his own body and the sound of his feet on the pavement, he would always veer off course, suddenly running through a rather ratty section of town that was at once foreign and achingly familiar. More than once he’d stopped his run, heaving to catch his breath and staring at the same dilapidated building for no reason he could fathom.

It frustrated him, this lack of control. It confounded him that he had no explanation for it, just as he had no explanation for why his office suddenly felt empty and why every Monday at one o’clock, he would step out into the waiting area expecting to see someone at the desk there. It was always empty, as it always had been. Moira had taken him to lunch last week to nag him once again to fill his assistant position – she’d had a student in mind – and Erik had met with the young man and hired him despite his misgivings, if only to stop himself from walking into an empty space. At least now when he entered the room someone was there, though Erik couldn’t help thinking his hair was the wrong colour and his workspace devoid of all character.

As March rolled into April, three weeks after the ‘Oxford Event’ as the media had termed it, the police and medical officials finally released a statement about the cause of the mass fainting spell that had knocked students and faculty alike unconscious for a 2-kilometer radius. The official statement read ‘leak of unknown gas’ and ‘no known source’ with the event labeled ‘an anomaly’ with no one person believed to be responsible.

Erik read as many news articles as he could get his hands on about the event, as did many of his fellow faculty members, and while others accepted the verdict without doubts, something about it did not sit well with Erik. Something was wrong with the report, though he couldn’t point out what.

Determined to distract himself from all the odd occurrences, Erik threw himself into his work. He counselled students, he ranted at his new assistant for his incompetence and his inability to keep his hands out of Erik’s filing system, and he spent hours every night consulting with Moira and the Oxford Mutant Coalition about the Clarke case.

They met with the Dean and stated their case. Two weeks later they received the best possible news -the Dean was supporting them in their goal to present the case before the ethics board.

“You can’t keep working like this Erik.” Moira said, looking at him across his dining room table.

“You want to win, right?” Erik replied, barely glancing over the stacks of papers between him and Moira.

“Of course I do.” Moira answered quickly. “But I’d like my friend to be in one piece when we do. We’ve been working on this for months and no has been working harder than you, Erik. I think now, it’s time to rest. We’re going in there tomorrow. There’s nothing more to do.”

“I’m just going to review my notes...” Erik frowned, looking down at the notebook in front of him.

“You know it all backwards and forwards, Erik. Put it down and go to bed.” Moira instructed.

“Fucking dictator.” Erik muttered, but he did put his notebook down in the face of Moira’s glare.

“You bet your ass I am.” Moira agreed. “These past couple weeks… you’ve sunk yourself so deep into this I’ve been afraid you’re never going to come out again. I’m thrilled at your dedication, Erik, truly. But there is life outside of the Clarke case.”

“Speaking of life outside this case, how did your date with the kid go?” Erik asked.

“He’s not a kid. He’s twenty-five.” Moira replied primly.

“He’s a musician.” Erik countered.

“Yes, he is. And he’s nice and he likes me, and he doesn’t think I’m boring.” Moira blushed lightly. “And I think he kind of likes it when I boss him around.”

“Good. You deserve someone who likes you exactly the way you are.” Erik nodded in approval.

“That is surprisingly sweet of you.” Moira smiled, before turning to grab her bag. “I have to get going… I invited Sean over to my place tonight.”

“How very forward of you.” Erik smirked.

“Oh, shut it, Lehnsherr.” Moira stood up to get her coat. “Listen, you better get a good night’s sleep. I don’t want to see you outside the Ethics Board tomorrow and know by the look on your face that you didn’t listen to me. Our case is solid – we can win, but our chances of winning will be better if you get a solid eight hours. And shave – you look like a lumberjack.”

“I wouldn’t dare disobey your direct orders.” Erik promised, running a hand over his thick beard.

“I don’t believe you.” Moira sighed. “When this is all over and we’ve won, I am taking you out and we are going to find someone for you – a hook-up, a date, a whatever.”

“I don’t need or want any of those things.”

“I think you do. It’s been years since Magda, Erik. It’s time to move on.”

Somehow Erik managed to turn the topic to something besides his dating life, or lack thereof, and get Moira out the door. And though he was reluctant to listen, he did follow Moira’s advice and kept his notebooks closed.

Wandering into his bedroom, he looked down at the expanse of white sheets on his perfectly made bed. A clear image of a man – brown hair mussed from sleep, bowed mouth, pale skin only a few shades darker than the white sheets themselves – lying on the bed flooded his thoughts. Erik could have sworn the man said his name, that he was actually there warm and inviting, and then the image was gone, and nothing but the cold empty bed remained.

Erik stripped out of his clothes, pulled on his pajamas and tucked himself into bed. Like he’d done every night since the ‘event’ he tossed and turned and fought for sleep. As always, out of desperation, he grabbed for his extra pillows, and it was only with his arms wrapped around them, a pale substitute of the man in his vision, that he fell asleep.

* * *

“Your report was very thorough, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“Thank you.” Erik answered stiffly.

Myrna Hillory, head of the Ethics board was not a woman known for giving compliments. Though her comment sounded positive, Erik knew she very well could have been complaining about the amount of reading she’d had to complete for this hearing.

“There was a lot of evidence to disseminate.” He added and was suddenly thankful he’d taken Moira’s advice and arrived for the hearing clean shaven and wearing his best suit.

“Yes, we are aware.” Mrs. Hillory replied. “The student accounts were particularly… intriguing. I would suggest the next time you make such a submission you edit your student statements more ruthlessly, Mr. Lehnsherr”

Mrs. Hillory paused, looking over Erik, Moira, the Mutant Coalition members, and finally Professor Clarke himself.

“Despite the rambling nature of your report, it is clear from your extensive documentation that a calculated plan of discrimination has been occurring on campus. A discrimination of mutant students that is not supported by this Board, nor by Oxford University as an institution.”

Erik could feel Moira quivering with excited victory beside him, but he stood firm and still. Erik knew better than to react before a final verdict was given –he wanted Clarke gone, he wanted him to pay for his actions, and so far, the Board had said nothing about punishment.

“Professor Clarke.” Mrs. Hillory turned her attention to the man seated at the far end of the room. “Your behavior toward the mutants on campus has been unacceptable and unbecoming of a member of Oxford University faculty. Moreover, your apparent mission to interfere with basic research ethics could have called into question the validity of the research findings of multiple departments of this university and that is an egregious crime that we simply cannot let pass. While we appreciate your years of service to this university and your excellent teaching record, you are hereby dismissed from Oxford University. You have until the end of the week to collect your things and leave campus.

“That is the verdict of this Board. You are all dismissed.”

A wave of cheers erupted from the people around him, Moira’s thin but strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist, even Scott, who’d never truly warmed to him, gave Erik a congratulatory slap on the back. Erik tried to enjoy the victory. Even though they hadn’t gotten exactly what they wanted, for Clarke to be dismissed due to his discriminatory ways, he was still leaving the university for his interference with researchers and putting the university’s reputation at risk – it was still a win.

Try as he might, the victory felt hollow. Erik couldn’t seem to stop looking around him, spending time analyzing each face he came across. Not matter how many people to saw, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find the bright blue eyes he was looking for.

* * *

The room pulsed with energy, the floors and walls literally vibrating from the heavy bass pumping through the speakers and the stomping of feet on the floor. Erik honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a pub this packed and full of jubilant revelers. Somehow, Moira had booked an entire pub on short notice and it felt like half the mutant student population of Oxford was rubbing elbows, brought together in celebration of the victory in the Clarke case.

Erik watched the happy faces. He watched couples dance and kiss. Moira goaded him into a speech, which he kept short and ended by buying drinks for the whole bar, which was met with a roar of approval.

He sat at the end of the bar, tucked in the closest thing to a quiet corner he could find, and he watched the merriment, but he didn’t feel any of it, he felt… empty.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” A voice sounded from behind him.

Erik turned to find himself face to face with Jean Grey.

“I’m sorry, what?” Erik asked, puzzled.

“Since the event – you feel it too. Something has… changed.” Jean said cryptically.

“The event changed a lot of people.” Erik hedged.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean… since the event things have shifted. Some things seem exactly the same, but sometimes, just fleeting moments really, things feel… off. I can’t explain it. I can’t say why it feels wrong, or how it should feel, but...”

“Something’s missing.” Erik supplied.

Jean cocked her head to the side, considering Erik’s words. “Maybe. That’s not quite what I feel, but that is very much what _you_ feel.”

“Do you think it was a gas leak?” Erik asked, taking a large drink of his beer.

“It’s a reasonable explanation.”

“But?” Erik nudged.

“But it doesn’t _feel_ right. And the police, the medical professionals are not going to listen to feelings, are they?” Jean smiled ruefully.

“No.” Erik grimaced into his drink.

“It’s… nice to know I’m not alone, Mr. Lehnsherr. If you ever figure it out, these feelings, let me know okay?”

Erik nodded shortly, though he couldn’t say he held out much hope for figuring out the mysterious ‘feelings’ as Jean called them. It had been a month now since the event at Oxford and Erik wasn’t sure he would ever feel normal again.

* * *

The next week was quiet and things felt as normal as they had been since the event. Erik’s morning runs went as planned (okay, he did still run through _that_ neighbourhood, but only twice), and he never picked up his car keys wanting to drive somewhere without really knowing why. That ache in his heart when he saw his assistant in the office hasn’t gone away, but it was duller and more manageable. Quite unexpectedly, and in a move that was decidedly out of character, he started going to a chess night at the local cafe due to a sudden and in explicable desire to play the game again despite not having played in years.

Then, he’d gone to buy the plane ticket for his mother. He’d been saving for over a year to get his mother a first-class flight to England; he’d had a clear, long-standing plan. And yet… when all was said and done, Erik bought a ticket, but one for himself to travel back home to New York to see his mother in the summer. Within a few months, in the oppressive heat of an East coast July, he would be in New York City. He couldn’t explain how it had happened.

“I am so excited schatz!” His mother exclaimed during their Sunday Skype call. “I cannot wait to see you again my boy.”

“Me too, Momma.” Erik agreed.

“Oh, I bet you’ve grown.”

“Momma, I haven’t grown since I was eighteen.” Erik shook his head.

“Not that kind of growing, liebling.” His mother smiled and Erik’s heart lurched in his chest.

There was something about that word and there shouldn’t be, he’d been hearing it since he was a child… but before he had time to think, his mother was talking about temple and her neighbours and what meals she’s going to cook for him when he got home.

That night Erik ate leftovers from the meal he made the night before (he was forever cooking far too much food on Saturday nights), and the chicken alfredo was good. As he chewed Erik considered his upcoming trip to see his mother and decided his mistake had been a good thing. His mother was thrilled. He’ll get to eat his mother’s cooking again and walk the pulsing, always busy streets of New York. There were a lot of good things about going back to New York.

Perhaps there, in the city that had made him the man he was today, these _feelings_ , as Jean had called them, would finally disappear. Maybe all he needed was a change to his environment – to escape Oxford and the scene of the event. Maybe he needed to be able to walk down the street to a good Jewish deli and get a bagel with lox. Maybe he just needed his mother.

Erik chalked up his mistake to his subconscious wanting to go back home and left it at that. Whatever it took, he was determined to move on with his life and leave all the odd occurrences since the event behind him.

* * *

Late spring and early summer passed by in an odd haze. Erik’s life, once so busy with the Clarke case, had slowed. He maintained his involvement with the Mutant Coalition, but did his best to let Jean and Scott lead the way and simply be supportive. His office remained busy, but not so busy that Erik wasn’t able to research mutant discrimination cases at other universities. He contacted other counselors and mutant advisors to collaborate on on-going cases and offer advise from his experience with the Clarke case. The public reason for Professor Clarke’s dismissal may have been ‘behaviour unbecoming of an Oxford professor’, but Erik did his best to spread the word that Clarke had also been reprimanded for his discrimination against mutant students. Anything he could do to stop mutant discrimination on other campuses was a victory.

Outside of work he filled his time with chess night, running and working out. He read. He caught up on years of television by binging shows – Game of Thrones (gratuitous nudity), Friends (just not that funny), Sherlock (acceptable), and the Gilmore Girls (surprisingly good). He took a cooking class and could now make authentic Indian food from scratch. He even tried a bridge group at the local community rec centre, only to be surrounded by a gaggle of women his mother’s age who all wanted to set him up with their daughters.

Erik was willing to do anything to fill his time. The busier he was, the more distracted he was, and the fewer odd visions and incidents he had. He was still scruffy most of the time, not sleeping well and losing weight. Hardly a week went by without Moira harping on him about how he needed to take better care of himself, go on a date, and generally get a life.

Erik didn’t know how to explain that it felt like life had taken some strange twist after the event at Oxford. So he would sit in his office and let Moira rant at him and stay silent. 

Earlier this week she’s said “I’ve reached my limit – you are coming over for dinner. No excuses. I don’t care how anti-social you want to be, you are coming over to meet Sean.”

Erik agreed, of course he had. There was no point arguing with Moira when she got herself so worked up. And besides, dinner would just be another distraction, which was exactly what Erik needed in his life right now.

* * *

“So, did you ask that cute woman from your chess club out, or what?” Moira asked as she chopped tomatoes for the salad.

“It’s not a club.” Erik responded from the dining room where he was setting the table. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Moira said pointedly.

“No. I did not ask her out.” Erik scowled. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in dating, Moira?”

“She was clearly flirting with you the other night!”

“When is your boyfriend going to be here – he’s late.” Erik said, dismissing Moira’s line of questioning entirely.

“Timeliness is not one of his virtues.” Moira shrugged. “He’ll be here. Haven’t you ever cared for someone enough to forgive them a few flaws, Erik?”

Erik opened his mouth to say a quick and definitive ‘no’, but nothing came out.

“He must be pretty special.” He murmured instead.

“He is.” Moira smiled fondly. “You’ll see.”

Sean arrived – eventually. He was more than half an hour late and Erik wasn’t inclined to forgive that kind of tardiness. However, the man was annoyingly sweet and silly, and he made Moira smile more than Erik had seen in years. And if they had a bunch of inside jokes that Erik didn’t understand and gazed into each other’s eyes in that sickening way new lovers did, and made Erik feel like a very useless third wheel...well, Moira had beer in the fridge and Erik was more than capable of helping himself.

Hours later, after a completely surreal game of Scrabble with Moira and Sean, where Sean kept asking if band names were acceptable words, Erik stood alone in the living room, staring at Moira’s large front window.

“Erik?” Moira’s voice sounded behind him, almost tentative.

“Hmm.” Erik mumbled, not turning away from the window.

“You’ve been staring out the window all night. Is there something out there?” Moira asked, stopping beside him.

“No.” Erik answered honestly.

The street in front of him was mostly silent, other than the occasional car passing by. The park across the street had a few people walking through it and a couple dogs as well. But then Erik hadn’t really been looking outside, he’d been having another of those moments – the young man had appeared again, this time silhouetted in front of the window, the glow from the streetlights reflecting off his chestnut hair.

“Do you ever feel like you’re remembering something, except it never happened?”

“Like deja vu but more mysterious?” Moira bumped into him playfully, effectively tugging Erik away from his vision.

Erik smiled; it wasn’t real or genuine, but he smiled and turned away from the window and let Moira lead him and his wayward thoughts away. They talked comfortably about his upcoming trip to New York, now only a couple weeks away and Erik promised he’d tell his mother hello on Moira’s behalf.

He walked home through the dark streets of Oxford, lost in thought about memories that weren’t memories. He ended up in that neighbourhood again, houses in disrepair, shady characters walking the streets eyeing him up to see if he might be an easy target – a quick hard glare from Erik was all it took to deter them.

Erik stood, staring up at a third floor flat, that odd feeling of both recognition and unfamiliarity coursing through his veins. He stood there in the dark and the cold until a drunk idiot ran into him and tried to steal his wallet. Erik gave him one clear warning and when the man came back for more, punched him in the nose.

His hand ached on the walk home, but he felt better, though he couldn’t explain why.

* * *

“Oh, Erik. Oh, my boy.”

Edie wrapped her arms tightly around her son and held on tight. Years. It had been years since she’d hugged him like this, openly and in public, all the other people at the airport walking around them. But Erik didn’t pull away, he simply hunched himself over and she felt his head rest on top of hers and she squeezed him a little bit tighter.

“Let’s get you home.” She whispered in Erik’s ear.

They carefully weaved their way through the throngs of people at JFK arrivals area, and Edie was thankful for Erik’s taller body and his intimidating glare. She didn’t raise him to be so unfriendly, but there were times when his ability to make people give him a wide berth come in quite handy.

It didn’t take long for Edie to start to worry. Within a couple days of Erik’s arrival, Edie was more than slightly concerned. Erik was not himself: he did not shave until she pointed out his scruff had almost turned into a beard, he glared at her over supper when she invited nice Jewish girls over, but he never complained when they left, and he spent hours in the evening out of the house and if she asked him what he was doing, he said ‘walking’, and Edie believed him.

“Why did you decide to come home, bubbeleh?” Edie asked one night right after dinner, effectively stopping Erik’s escape out into the New York City streets.

“I missed you. That’s all.” Erik said with a dismissive shrug.

“What have I told you about lying to your mother, hmm? You tell me part of the truth – not all, but I know there is more. So, tell me.” Edie prodded.

“I… I thought it would feel different here.” Erik said after a few moments of silence. “Everything has felt wrong and off since the event at Oxford. I can’t… I don’t know what it is, but I can’t seem to work through it.”

“What happened at Oxford was horrible.” Edie stepped closer to Erik, letting her hand rest on his arm. “It would be hard for anyone to recover from that my boy. There is nothing shameful about needing time.”

Edie maneuvered Erik back to the kitchen table and busied herself making hot cocoa. She set two steaming mugs down on the table and sat herself across from Erik, who was looking down, contemplative and quiet.

“I’m glad you came here.” Edie began. “But if you need something else, something more, then you should do that, Erik. We can go visit Rabbi Rubenovitch, or get you an appointment with a psychiatrist, anything. All the doors are open, and you just need to choose.”

“And if I just want to get in a car and drive?” Erik asked, meeting her eyes across the table.

“Then that is what you will do. Mr. Levinson down the street has an old BMW. It needs a tune up and he is too cheap to pay for it. I bet if you fix it up for him, he will let you take it out for a trip. We can talk to him first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Momma.”

Edie went to the bed that night unsure if a road trip with no destination was the best plan for a man who may well be suffering from some sort of psychological trauma, but she was glad Erik did not go out wandering that night. He’d stayed in with her, playing cards and listening to classical music on the radio. Tonight, at least, felt like a step in the right direction, a step toward getting her boy back.

* * *

Mr. Levinson was a car efficiando and lover of motorsport. Erik spent a couple days with his arms coated in grease and grime, fixing his 1988 BMW m3 with a combination of his powers and his mechanical knowledge. He honestly didn’t mind – it was a beautiful car and one made to be driven. And if Mr. Levinson spent a lot of those two days talking his ear off about racing, well, Erik was particularly knowledgeable about European racing and he had an incredible talent for tuning people out, so it wasn’t all that bad a time.

When he finally got the car out on the road and away from the city’s bumper to bumper traffic, it was glorious: the tires hugged the pavement, the metal sang to Erik as the car roared down the highway, finally able to stretch its legs after years hidden in Mr. Levinson’s garage.

Erik drove for hours; no particular destination in mind, just heading north. All that mattered was the feel of the car, the bliss of the metal singing out to him as all the parts of the vehicle moved in perfect harmony. Erik hadn’t used his power so extensively in ages and for the first time in months he felt at peace.

Long after the sun set, when his eyes were struggling to stay open, Erik finally pulled over and crashed for the night in a roadside motel. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

In the morning, Erik gobbled down a barely edible breakfast at the diner attached to the motel and washed the food down with even worse coffee before he hit the road again, this time headed back to New York. Mr. Levinson had only agreed to lend him the car for a couple days after all.

Erik enjoyed the drive, as much as he had yesterday. He was in control, of the car, of his mind. There were no mysterious ‘memories’, no actions or feelings he couldn’t explain.

Then, suddenly, a couple hours outside of New York, he veered off course, turning the car to the south east. Erik downplayed the change of plans – he just wanted to see a different part of New York state, he wanted the day to last as long as possible, there was no harm in that.

Westchester county was quaint; dotted with towns and intersected by rivers. It had a laziness to it that you could never find in New York City no matter how hard you might try. Erik could not recall if he’d ever driven past this section of the state – instead of making his way to the coast, he’d driven slightly north and was now surrounded by rolling hills, farmland, and tiny hamlets dotted with historic buildings.

He stopped at a set of tall gates, staring for several minutes at the intricately wrought iron, curving and swirling in delicate patterns. It was excellent craftsmanship; Erik could have accomplished the same effect with his mutation in minutes of course, but to have the skill and patience to do it by hand was impressive. Without thinking, he got out of the car, opened the gates and started walking down the gravel driveway.

Where he was going, he had no idea. The end of the driveway was nowhere in sight and he was surrounded by greenery on both sides, but his feet pulled him onward, his mind full of nothing more than a low-level hum, as his eyes scanned the space in front of him.

Erik stepped off the driveway and headed into the trees, his footsteps almost soundless in the green grass. How surreal to find this type of place so close to the city – just acres of untouched land behind a gate, no farm animals, no house that he could see, just trees and grass and silence.

Erik broke through the trees to be met by a vast expanse of lawn and what appeared to be the largest man-made pond he had ever seen. Standing halfway down the concrete side of the pond was a man; a young man with chestnut hair. The sight of him made Erik’s heart race and his stride quickened, closing the distance between them.

The closer he got, the faster Erik moved, because the closer he was the more he could see. This wasn’t just a man; it was _the_ man. The man of his visions and memories, except now all the details were filled in; yes he had blue eyes, but they were the most incredibly sad blue eyes Erik had ever seen, his pale face was patrician, but made less austere by a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He was shorter than Erik, but standing still and straight, frozen on the spot but too proud to move away. Erik couldn’t remember him and yet he could; this mystery man he’d thought he’d seen in his office, in the window of Moira’s flat, in his bed, now here in the flesh.

He stopped abruptly in front of the man, only a couple feet away, almost close enough to touch, chest heaving, brow furrowed. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t seem to open his mouth, or get his thoughts in order.

The younger man, for he was younger, so very much younger than Erik had thought he would be, moved first, reaching out a hand before letting it fall back down at his side. Erik watched, riveted as the man closed his eyes, took a deep breath and… and then Erik was falling, dropping to his knees with the influx of images - no memories - flooding his mind.

_Charles Xavier. His office. Chess. Friendship. Meals. Laughter. Together. Comfort. Kisses. Desire. Love. And then… gone._

It all came back, heart wrenching and painful. Erik swayed on his knees, completely off balance. His head was spinning, and he thought he might be seconds away from losing his lunch.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the world around him came back into focus: the green grass under his knees, the heat of the sun on the back of his neck, the feel of arms wrapped around him, and the sound of the same three words being spoken, over and over: “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again.” Erik growled, clutching at the arms around him and lifting his head to look at Charles’ face. “Never again, Charles. Promise me.”

Big, impossible blue eyes, cascading with tears met his. “Never again, Erik. I’m so sorry, love. So very sorry.”

Erik felt the warmth, the glow of Charles within his mind recede and he grabbed at Charles insistently.

“No.” Erik ground out. “Don’t you dare. Come back, Charles, come back. I didn’t mean that – I want you.”

“You didn’t mean…?” Charles whispered, clearly confused. “You still want me in your mind? After what I did?”

“I want you.” Erik vowed. “I’ll always want you.”

“Then what did you mean?” Charles asked, helplessly, clearly unwilling to delve deeper into Erik’s mind to find out.

“Don’t leave me. I meant, don’t leave me.” Erik said, his heart in his throat. “I love you, Charles. Do you understand what that means?” Erik watched Charles’ wide eyes and his quivering lip. “It means we’re in this together. Forever. If you’re ever in trouble – the worst kind of trouble, the people are going to kills us trouble, the government is going to take me away and lock me up trouble – then I want to be there, right be your side, fighting for you, fighting with you. Don’t you ever take that away from me.”

“I’m sorry.” Charles whimpered. 

“Stop apologizing and kiss me, liebling.” Erik pleaded, needing an intimate touch to seal this moment, to truly prove that all of this was real.

Erik lifted his hands softly to Charles’ face, cradling his cheeks. He didn’t pull Charles forward or hurry him on, instead he waited patiently until Charles leaned forward all on his own and finally, with a touch so gentle Erik thought he might have imagined it, their lips met, and it felt like home.

The kiss was soft and sweet, desperate and hurried. It was everything and anything a kiss could be all wrapped into one and Erik hoped it would never end. He’d missed this, all those months in Oxford. He’d missed it without even knowing he’d had it. The plumpness of Charles’ lips, the taste of his tongue, the little moans and whimpers he made in the back of his throat, the way he kissed with his whole body as if he couldn’t help himself. Even though they’d started out tentatively, they were now entwined on the grass, two bodies practically melded into one.

Charles pulled away first, almost gasping for air, his face flushed, and pupils blown.

“How did you find me?” He asked, a puzzled look on his face.

“You were always there.” Erik said with a shrug. “Little pieces of you. Memories that didn’t feel like memories, but like visions. I kept running by your flat not knowing why. You must have left something behind.”

“I didn’t.” Charles answered and fell silent. “Maybe you just can’t erase love.” He said eventually. “Not matter how I tried – love brought you back to me.”

Erik smiled up at Charles and he didn’t feel a moment’s embarrassment at the tears in his eyes, tears he could see reflected in Charles’ own.

“I like the sound of that.” He replied. 

“Me too.” Charles smiled, wide and genuine and happy. “Kiss me again?”

Erik did.

Erik knew they had things to talk about. They had mountains to climb to get back to where they had been before the event at Oxford, before Charles had up and left. There were still going to be issues with Charles’ mutation and finding him a safe place to give his power free rein and prevent him from overloading again. Charles was still at risk, his power, his shear power as a psionic, would always put him at risk. There was still Raven, the interfering little sister. There was still Charles’ other family, his step-father and step-brother, whom Erik had never met but would gladly kick in the balls. There was still Erik’s mother, who would be planning their wedding for them and adopting children for them if she had her way. The list of problems and issues to resolve was long and complicated. But kissing Charles was not. 

Erik decided kissing Charles was by far the most important thing he needed to do right now. And it might be the most important thing that he needed do for quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who made it through this fic.
> 
> Particular thanks to both my betas who helped with various parts of this story - you both made it so much better than it would have been.
> 
> Thank you to all of you who've left kudos and comments. It has been amazing to read the response to this fic and I cannot express how motivating it was to know people were reading and enjoying this fic as I was writing it.
> 
> I understand that the ending of this fic is quite open-ended and I knew this was how this story would end from the beginning. Is there a possibility of a sequel? I think the ending leaves space for that for sure. Do I have a sequel planned? I do not. Maybe someday I will. Maybe I'll just write snippets of Erik and Charles' future. Maybe this fic will simply be what it will be. I don't know. All I know is that the options are there and if someday the muse strikes...well then, we shall see.


End file.
